


right place, wrong time

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 'just a dash' of angst, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, I have no regrets, Jealousy, Multi, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious My Unit | Byleth, Polyamory, Temporarily Unrequited Love, and if it doesn't im not doing my job right, buckle up boys this is gonna hurt, byleth said polyamory rights, forgot to add that one earlier, i'm hurting both of them here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: The war is finally over, and Claude has finally worked up the courage to ask Byleth for her hand. So he sends a note to her to meet him at the Goddess tower. But when he gets there, Sylvain is already up there, and he hears four words that send his world crashing down. Now, Claude just hopes he can make it until he leaves without spilling*Byleth knows Claude's avoiding her. But she doesn't know why, nor does she have time to ask, in between getting ready for her coronation and setting up Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain. Not to mention she's trying to work up the courage to give Claude her father's ring.*He didn’t care if Byleth and Sylvain heard - he needed to get out, to get some fresh air, away from the tower, from Sylvain, from Byleth. Claude felt like he couldn’t breathe, like something was constricting his lungs and tightening his throat, like he had been punched in the gut.Claude made it halfway across the bridge spanning the distance between the Cathedral and the Officer’s Academy before he had to stop and lean over the edge to hurl. He almost blacked out once or twice, too, unable to find the ability to breathe, mind spinning.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 76
Kudos: 190





	1. Shattered Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> aka 
> 
> Sylvain inadvertently fucks up Claude and Byleth's relationship while asking her a question
> 
> aka
> 
> Local Pining Fools Need To Learn To Talk To One Another
> 
> aka
> 
> buckle up boys, this is gonna get angsty
> 
> aka
> 
> I have no regrets writing this

The stars had never seemed so close before.

Usually, the stars towered over Claude, twinkling in the night sky as he looked at them, looked at them like he looked for his dreams. They were always too far away for him, too far away to reach, and that made his dream feel close, within his reach. He always liked that about the night sky, how it made his enormous dreams feel small and tiny. But now, as Claude stared up at the fading sky and the Goddess tower, the few stars that were up there seemed much closer to him than ever before. He felt like he could just reach up and pluck one out of the sky, hold it in his hands, and make a wish.

He knew he couldn’t; they would always be just out of reach, no matter how high he went. But this evening, he didn’t need to reach the stars to make his dream feel smaller. Right now, the ring he had in his pocket was his own mini-star, as was the person (hopefully) waiting at the top.

Claude just had to pray that Byleth would accept it.

Nemesis was gone, and Fódlan was finally, finally able to have peace. Claude’s work there was done; he was flying back to Almyra next week, to take his place as king, to finally start towards his dream of uniting Fódlan and Almyra. But he couldn’t do that without telling Byleth his feelings, without giving her the ring. It felt heavy in Claude’s pocket, now, as he looked up at the Goddess tower. With any luck, Byleth would’ve gotten his message, and be up at the top already. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.

At first, he had planned on telling her after Enbarr, off the high of victory and defeating the Empire. But then there was Shambala, and then Nemesis. Claude knew he could’ve told Byleth any time he wanted to, but he wanted to wait until Fódlan finally had peace.

Sucking in a breath, Claude opened up the door to the Goddess Tower, stepping in. The stairs lay ahead of him, and Claude started walking up, summoning his courage and repeating the words he wanted to say in his head. Earlier, he had written them down so he wouldn’t forget them, and Claude had repeated it so much he could recite it word for word.

It was only when he got to the top did Claude hear... _voices_? He froze, trying to hear what they were saying, but it was to quiet for him to hear.

Curious about who was up there, Claude continued up the stairs slower, quieter, hoping to not alert whoever was up there. When he got to the top, he peered over the stone ground, and felt his heart skip a beat; Byleth was up there.

As was Sylvain.

Claude could recognize the orange-haired flirt from anywhere. He was sitting on the ledge of the windowsill, still in his armor, facing Byleth, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers. The fading sunlight reflected off her hair, casting strands of it aglow in flame, and he momentarily lost his breath, too; Gods, was she _beautiful_.

He paused for a moment, wondering if he should go up, but decided not to. He didn’t want to be rude, after all. Instead, he sat on the stairs and waited for their conversation to be over, though a part of him was curious as to why Sylvain was up there at this hour. Everyone should’ve been at dinner or in their dorms as night approached, save for him and Byleth. And, apparently, Sylvain.

“What about you?” Byleth asked him, voice echoing off the stone walls. “What are you going to do next? Go back to Gautier territory?”

“Yeah, probably,” Sylvain replied with a nervous laugh. “My old man is, well, getting old. The war and the whole Faerghus rebellion wasn’t good on him, so he’s likely going to bite the dust soon. That’ll leave me as the next heir to the Gautier Estate.”

Byleth winced, nodding. “Be careful; Cornelia is still on the run. There’s a chance she’ll come for you and Felix.”

Sylvain waved a hand through the air. “If the ancient King of Liberation couldn’t kill me, then some bitch with magic can’t. I’ll be fine.” A pause as Sylvain was silent for a moment, and then he let out a long sigh. “But before I can do that, there’s, uh… something I need to do.”

Byleth’s next words shook Claude to his core.

“Is... is that a ring?”

Claude froze, heart leaping up into his throat. _Did he hear that right?_

Sucking in a shaky breath, Claude peered over the edge of the stone, and an icy hand grabbed his heart, cold and crushing.

In Sylvain’s hands, gleaming in the moonlight, was a ring.

The world seemed to freeze, time stopping, Claude hyper-locked onto the gleam of the ring in the moonlight.

_A ring._

_From Sylvain._

_Meant for Byleth._

Claude’s knees buckled, heartbeat seeming to momentarily stop as he focused on the ring - _Sylvain’s_ ring, to _Byleth_ \- and everything else just sort of… drowned out.

He didn’t register what pretty words Sylvain said to try and convince Byleth to accept. He didn’t register Byleth’s response. He didn’t register anything but the unexpected, sudden, and debilitating feeling in his chest, swiping the breath from his lungs. The world shrunk, and the towers seemed to close in on him, tight and looming. Nausea ran up his stomach, and Claude could barely remember half-stumbling down the stairs of the Goddess Tower.

He didn’t care if Byleth and Sylvain heard - he needed to get out, to get some fresh air, away from the tower, from Sylvain, from Byleth. Claude felt like he couldn’t breathe, like something was constricting his lungs and tightening his throat.

Claude made it halfway across the bridge spanning the distance between the Cathedral and the Officer’s Academy before he had to stop and lean over the edge to hurl. He almost blacked out once or twice, too, unable to find the ability to breathe, mind spinning. It was as though his breath was stolen when Sylvain showed the ring.

And if it was, whatever was left _hurt_.

The evening air was a cool refresher on his face as Claude shakily stumbled to his room, still feeling constricted, lungs tight and aching, burning up. His thoughts were in disarray, fuzzy, as he tried to make sense of what was happening. It couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming, he had to be, trapped in some sort of nightmare. Sylvain had never shown any indication of actually wanting to spend the rest of his life with Byleth. Sure, he had seen him eyeing her up and down, but that was because he’s a philanderer. Besides, he had eyes on Felix for months, now.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a joke, a sick, cruel, twisted joke from some higher being, hell-bent on ruining Claude’s happiness. There was no other explanation.

He was thankful the dorm area was empty of people tonight as Claude tripped his way over to his room, feeling as if though he had been run through with a sword. In the distance, he could hear the cheers and laughter and chatter of the Deer, of his friends, as they celebrated their victory. Their laughter and chatter made Claude feel all the worse about himself. He was supposed to be there right now, supposed to be celebrating with his friends and getting drunk out of his skull.

Instead, he was sulking to his room, crestfallen, shivering, throat closing up, as he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. It was the same feeling he had had after the attack at the monastery five years ago, when he saw Byleth falling, only worse.

Worse because she was there.

Worse because she wouldn’t be, soon.

Worse because he had finally, _finally_ , found someone he trusted, someone he loved, only to watch as someone else gave them a ring.

“Idiot, idiot, _idiot_!” Claude barked at himself once he reached his room, slamming his door shut. Claude had three months - _three whole damn months!_ \- to tell Byleth, to give the ring to her, and hope, _pray_ , she would accept. And he had waited like a dumbass for it to be ‘over’, for the ‘right time’, causing someone else to swoop in and take her at the last second.

Hilda’s words echoed in his head; _Tell her, Claude, before you lose her._ He had done the exact opposite of that, waiting too long, waiting to see if she felt the same, waiting until the very last second. The ring he had, the ring Claude was going to give Byleth, seemed to burn a hole through his pocket and into his chest. He practically yanked it out, clutching his hand around it so tight it dug lines into his skin, white-hot, as he tried to figure out how to breathe again.

Claude trudged over to his desk, setting the ring on it, next to the paper he had memorized word for word so he didn’t mess up during his little proposal speech. All that time he spent thinking and writing and re-writing and memorizing… all for naught. So he took the paper and crumpled it up, tossing it into the corner of his room, heart aching.

He swore, first in Almyran, and then in Fódlanese, clutching the desk as tears, hot and heavy, streaked down his cheeks. Tried and failed to make sense of what was going on, of what he saw in the tower. A part of him was angry at himself, angry that he didn’t say something either, that he waited this long. But mostly, he was just… anguished. Heartbroken. Hurt. Some sort of invisible knife seemed to cut Claude - and his heart - into tiny pieces.

 _This couldn’t be happening,_ Claude thought, shaking, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. This couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming, some sort of nightmare, he had to be. Sylvain just proposed to Byleth, right in front of his eyes. One of his worst fears, come to life right in front of his eyes.

One part of Claude had always figured that there was a chance that Byleth would turn him down, leave him heartbroken and alone. But he had always tried to focus on the good, to not think about it, to shove his doubts and fears into the back of his mind. This, though?

This _hurt_.

It carved him through with a knife, yanking his heart out and leaving an empty hole in its place. It was a feeling worse than betrayal, constricting his chest and bringing rare tears to Claude’s eyes. What was worse, though, was knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. Whenever someone tried to kill him, Claude could always get back at them. Let his parents deal with them or slip some poison into their food, give them a taste of their own medicine, or even threaten them.

But he couldn’t do that with Byleth, with Sylvain. It would just be rude, impolite, low, trying to do that to Sylvain. Why should he force Byleth to make a choice, to choose between him and Sylvain? Not only would it be rude to Sylvain, but he didn’t want Byleth to see him stoop to such low levels.

Claude’s heart was torn, though. He loved Byleth; he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He cared for her, trusted her, trusted her to watch his back and him to watch hers. Byleth was probably the first person he truly trusted, and the first person that he truly, truly loved.

But did he want to be an asshole, a jerk to Sylvain and probably even Byleth, and cut in with his own feelings? If Byleth said yes to Sylvain, then it would just make Claude look jealous, trying to undercut Sylvain like that. And then how would Byleth look at him? Would she look at him the same, or would she look at him as the guy who had feelings for her, the guy who tried to cut in on her marriage?

 _No, no,_ Claude couldn’t do that to her, to him. He couldn’t be an asshole, couldn’t risk spilling his heart to Byleth in case she turned him down. Claude had his whole life ahead of him; he could always find someone else to share it with. Even if it broke his heart, Claude could deal with it, as long as he and Byleth stayed friends. Maybe it wouldn’t be the happy ending he was hoping for, but… as long as he had Byleth in his life to some extent, he would be alright.

**✧⭒✧⭒✧**

Of course, that would be hard when Claude’s heart still broke a little every time he saw Byleth.

Even just small glimpses of her, in the dining hall or the gardens, made his heart race and break all over again, the pain washing over Claude anew. But each time, she was with someone, usually Hilda or Felix or Ingrid or Sylvain. It hurt, but maybe it was better that way. Maybe that way he wouldn’t pull her into his room or a small alley between the walls and tell Byleth about his feelings, that he was the one who sent the note, kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, or otherwise screw it up. It was a wall, one with barbed wire and spikes to keep Claude from climbing over it.

He only had a few days until he left to go to Almyra, left Fódlan behind in pursuit of his dream. Claude could put up with his hurt until then, could sit and watch her smile and laugh and relax after all that had been happening. She deserved it before she took on the daunting role of Archbishop that he had, admittedly, forced some of on her.

But it was hard, he had to admit. It was hard seeing Byleth spend most of her time around Sylvain, talking about something that Claude couldn’t tell. Hard feeling his lungs constrict and his heart shatter all over again every time she looked his way. Harder to smile and walk away whenever she looked at him or looked like she wanted to talk to him, so he didn’t risk slipping up and telling her or doing something worse.

Eventually, Claude had started to try and evade her, to minimize the risk of slipping and saying something he shouldn’t. It would only be a matter of time, he knew, before Byleth would start to seek him out; he couldn’t avoid her forever, either. Claude just had to hope that he would leave before Byleth trapped him.

And that would be difficult when he was trapped in the dining hall with her.

It was a celebration feast that Hilda decided to throw in celebration for defeating Nemesis, for winning the war, to give everyone a chance to relax before everyone went off to their duties, before Byleth’s coronation.

Claude watched everyone as they partied, Hilda swinging Marianne around in a dance, Felix and Ingrid in an arm-wrestling contest, Dorthea sitting on Petra’s lap, half-drunk, and giggling. But what really miffed Claude was watching Byleth sitting next to Sylvain, a smile on her face.

He turned his gaze away from her, drinking from his ale, as he tried to focus on something other than Byleth and Sylvain. But it seemed like every time he did so, Claude’s gaze drifted back to her, wanting to rectify every detail of her before he left to Almyra.

Alone.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Byleth spotted him and waved him over. And Claude, not wanting to make himself seem more suspicious, joined them, plastering on a fake smile, a fake smile he hadn’t used in ages.

“Enjoying the party, you two?” Claude asked as he took a seat next to Byleth, raising his pitcher of ale. Sylvain grinned.

“Yeah! You gotta admit, Hilda knows how to plan one hell of a party,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t think I haven’t had this much fun in ages!”

Claude bit back the reply that launched to the tip of his tongue, hiding it behind another sip of ale. Maybe he should switch to water soon, less he gets drunk and slip up. Instead, he focused his gaze on Byleth, shooting a wink at her.

“What about you, Teach? You enjoying the, uh… the rather massive steak on your plate?” He asked, eyes flickering down to the half-eaten plate of steak Byleth still had in front of her. She was almost a big an eater as Raphael.

For a moment, Byleth looked up at him with that blank, stony stare of hers, and Claude shifted in his seat, the look that looked through him, seeing through his soul. If there was one part about Byleth Claude admittedly didn’t like, it was that look. It always made him uneasy, made him feel as if Byleth was picking out his secrets, one by one by one.

After a few seconds, though, she nodded, turning her gaze back down to her steak and cutting off another bite. “It’s amazing,” she replied, shoveling it into her mouth. “You should try some.”

“Eh, maybe later,” He replied, his heart skipping a beat and shattering at the same time, something only Byleth could do. “Had dinner earlier.”

“Oh, come on, Claude, try some!” Sylvain said, raising his own drink. “It’s amazing, for sure.”

Claude scowled, but nodded, and held a hand out for Byleth to hand him a fork. She did so, and when his fingers brushed hers, Claude could’ve sworn his heart stopped for a moment.

 _Pull it together, Claude,_ he told himself, nudging Byleth’s steak towards him, before half-heartedly attempting to cut a piece off. He didn’t get very far before Byleth sighed and nudged his hand away.

“Knife, Claude,” she said, before making a clean slice with her dagger. Claude startled, before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah, thanks, Teach,” he replied, taking his fork and twirling it. Then he stabbed it into his steak, took a bite. Byleth was right, Claude had to admit; the steak was pretty good.

“Well?” Byleth asked with raised eyebrows.

“‘S good,” he replied with a nod. “But as I said, I had dinner earlier.”

“Your loss,” Byleth said, turning the plate and slicing off another bite-sized piece. Claude’s lips quirked at her rather ungraceful behavior, a testament that she was still Byleth the Ashen Demon at heart, not Byleth the war commander or Archbishop.

“It’s still hard to believe the war is over,” Claude mentioned, swirling the ale in his mug while looking at Byleth out of the corner of her eye. “First Edelgard, then those who slither, and then Nemesis… it’s nice to relax.”

Byleth and Sylvain nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Though I suppose winning the war was only half the battle,” Sylvian said, pointing from himself to Claude. “You and I still have our respective territories to run, and the Professor is here is set to be the next Archbishop.”

“A job I’m _not_ looking forward too,” Byleth grumbled, before shoving another large chunk of steak into her face.

“Well, me and Sylvain and the others are here for you, Byleth,” Claude replied, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of his tone. “ _Some_ more than others.”

Byleth frowned, but Claude leaned back and took a sip of his drink. “The diplomacy is the worst part, especially with Fodlan still so… ununified, for lack of a better word.” He paused, frowned. “But you should be fine as long as you listen to what the people say and don’t plunge Fódlan into another war.”

That incited a small chuckle of laughter from Byleth, a soft, charming chuckle that made Claude’s chest clench. “Going to be hard; I get in a lot of fights with people.”

“Ah, that’s what alcohol is for, Professor,” Sylvain interrupted, holding up his glass. Claude frowned; if Sylvain did propose to Byleth, wouldn’t he say her name or some sort of pet name? Or were they just waiting to tell everyone? He hadn’t, after all, heard anything about their new union.

“Say, shall we have a toast to Fódlan’s freedom?” Claude asked, looking between the two. Byleth gave a nod, and Sylvain chuckled, holding up his glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and the three of them clinked their glasses together, Sylvain laughing all the while. Claude wasn’t sure if that made his heart hurt more or less, but either way, he savored the smile on Byleth’s face. That soon fell, though, as Byleth turned to her.

“Hey, can we talk?” She asked him, voice quiet as Sylvain chugged his own drink. Claude’s hand tightened around his glass, mind racing. Surely she had noticed by then he was avoiding her, and he did his best to keep up a placid smile. Claude hadn’t the heart to go into the specific reasons why with her at that moment.

“Ah, I’d love to, Teach, but I’m busy,” Claude lied, heart aching at the fact he was lying to her.

“Doing what?” Byleth asked, raising a slight brow.

It was rather disappointing how Claude already had a lie in case of that question. “Why, I have to and make sure everyone here is having a good time, courtesy of my role as Duke Reigan.” It was a flimsy, weak lie, but hopefully, Byleth would believe it.

The world seemed to freeze as she narrowed her eyes, looking at him with that gaze again, the one that saw through him and his lies. Then, Byleth’s lips quirked downward, and she let out a sigh.

“Alright,” she said in a tone akin to disappointment, and Claude’s heart skipped a beat. “Have fun.”

It was never easy, seeing Byleth upset or sad, Claude had realized. He felt bad, but Sylvain’s laughter brought Claude out of his stupor, back to why he was lying to her in the first place.

So, with a false grin and a heavy heart, Claude stood up and bid them farewell, before going to talk to the other guests at the party. He didn’t dare leave until he was sure Byleth wasn’t looking at him anymore.


	2. The Goddess Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth goes to the Goddess Tower in search of whoever sent her a mysterious letter. Who she finds is not who she's expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, part two is here (I almost biffed when I was copying this from Google docs and almost put chapter three here but no, so crisis averted!) 
> 
> Also, make sure you're all staying safe and washing your hands! (I'm lucky I get a month off school and i'm really hoping it would drag into summer, knock on wood)

The Goddess Tower was empty when Byleth reached it.

Byleth frowned when she got to the top, cold air brushing her face as she looked around the top floor, looking for… whoever was supposed to meet her there. Whoever sent her the note she found slipped under her door a few hours ago, when she came back from breakfast. No name, no recognizable handwriting, just a rather odd message.

 _Hey, Byleth,_ it read in simple, clean handwriting. _Can you meet me at the Goddess Tower at sunset today? There’s something that I ~~want~~ need to tell you._

It had confused Byleth when she first got it, not having a name to know who sent it to her, or why they asked to meet at such a specific place and time. She had to guess it was from one of her students, but it didn’t make sense; if someone wanted to talk to her, they could’ve just come up to her during the day or during the dinner she so abruptly left once she spotted the pink and orange clouds through the window.

She hoped they - whoever they were - would come soon; her food was getting cold.

It was only a few minutes later did Byleth hear footsteps echoing on the stairs, and she paused in her thinking, turning around to see Sylvain walking up them. The redhead gave a wave when he did so, and Byleth frowned; _Sylvain was the one who wrote the note?_

“Evening, Professor,” Sylvain said, giving an exaggerated bow. Byleth nodded in response.

“Good evening, Sylvain,” she replied, tapping her fingers on the windowsill as she thought; didn’t she just see Sylvain in the dining hall a few minutes ago? Or was it Ferdinand? “Do you need anything?”

Sylvain gave a light-hearted shrug, tilting his head. “Well, what I need is to take a long soak in the bath, but we can’t all have what we want,” he replied, walking up to her at the windowsill, looking out over the mountains. “Man, I don’t think I ever realized how pretty the view up here was.”

Byleth nodded in agreement, watching as the setting sun painted the Oghma mountains in oranges and pinks and peaches, highlighting the valley and parts of the monastery, way down below.

“It is,” She hummed. Sylvain tapped his fingers on the windowsill.

“It’s hard to believe a war has come and gone,” he mentioned, voice turning grim. “Too bad not everyone made it out.”

Byleth knew who he was talking about: Dimitri, the golden-hearted prince and leader of the Blue Lion house she once knew.

“Three lords, and only one made it out,” Byleth hummed, tracing the shape of a bow with her finger on the stone. She recalled the night she first met the three of them, how eager and innocent and young they had been. But Dimitri went mad, and Edelgard started a war against the Church. At least Claude was relatively the same. “First Dimitri, then Edelgard.”

“It doesn’t feel right; His High- Dimitri should be here with us.” A pause, then the redhead added, “He was a good person, Professor. But the Tragedy affected a lot of people, and he was no exception.” Sylvain sighed and hung his head. “Guess he let the demons get to his head, and his heart.”

Byleth gulped, a part of her wondering how - if - things would be different if she had chosen another house, like Blue Lions or even Edelgard’s house. Would she still be as close to Claude as she was now? The ring felt heavy in its pouch.

“Death is never easy,” she replied silently, still remembering how broken Dimitri’s body had been when they recovered it, how beautiful he had been when he was to be laid at rest here at the monastery. Eventually, though, with the Faerghus Dukedom dismantled and Cornelia on the run, he would go to be buried with his parents, courtesy of the Blue Lions students.

“No, it’s not,” Sylvain replied. “All we can do is move on.” He frowned, furrowing his brow, and turned to look at her, then. “How are you going to move on, Professor?”

“Well, Claude and Seteth sorta forced me into the Archbishop’s chair,” Byleth told him, frowning. “That’s going to be hard to handle.”

Sylvain let out a low whistle. “It’s one hell of a change, Professor: Mercenary to professor to war commander to Archbishop of a religion you never even heard of before you came to Garreg Mach.”

Byleth raised a brow. “You want to take the seat, go ahead. I’m not cut out for ruling.”

“Ah, thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I’m already chasing after enough people.”

She frowned, then said, “What about you? “What are you going to do next? Go back to Gautier territory?”

“Yeah, probably,” Sylvain replied with a nervous laugh, ruffling his hair. “My old man is, well, getting old. The war and the whole Faerghus rebellion wasn’t good on him, so he’s likely going to bite the dust soon. That’ll leave me as the next heir to the Gautier Estate.”

Byleth winced, recalling his duties to protect northern Fodlan from Sreng and the Lance of Ruin, and nodded. “Be careful; Cornelia is still on the run. There’s a chance she’ll come for you and Felix.”

“Felix, huh?” Sylvain muttered under his breath, quiet enough she could barely hear it, even with the echo of the stone walls. Then he sighed, waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“If the ancient King of Liberation couldn’t kill me, then some bitch with magic can’t. I’ll be fine.” A pause as Sylvain pursed his lips together, and then let out a long sigh. “But before I can do that, there’s, uh… something I need to do.”

He reached into one of the pockets on the cloth that hung at his hips, pulling out a small… object. Sylvain stared at it for a moment, and Byleth felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Is… is that a ring?”

Sylvain blinked, before nodding and holding it up so it caught the gleam of the sunlight, looking through the hole at her. It was a simple, silver ring, with a green emerald on it, perfectly cut.

 _Was… was this a proposal?_ Byleth asked herself as Sylvain winked at her. _Is this why he sent the note to me? To_ propose _?_

“Yup,” Sylvain said, before looking away and lowering the ring. “It was my grandmother’s ring, then my father’s… now it’s mine.”

“I…” Oh, Byleth didn’t like this at all. She already had her father’s ring, sure, sitting in a small brown pouch at her hip, but… she was saving it for one person, someone other than him. Was she about to break his heart?

It was at that moment that Byleth heard footsteps on the stairs, loud and fast. She startled, looking at Sylvian, the stairs, and Sylvain once more. He noticed, too, one hand already glowing with arcane runes. _Was someone eavesdropping on them?_ Drawing out her own dagger, Byleth slunk over to the stairs and peered down the spiral staircase, but she only saw a flash of yellow before it was gone down another level. Frowning, she descended the flight of stairs to make sure no one was lurking, but the floor below them was silent.

“Uh… was anyone there?” Sylvain asked once Byleth popped back up, and she shook her head. The arcane runes faded, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Nothing,” she replied, not bothering to mention the flash of gold she saw. She would have time to figure that out later; right now, her concern was letting Sylvain down easily, and stepped towards him.

“Listen, about the ring, I… I don’t think-”

Sylvain held up a hand, then, stopping Byleth, and she watched as he looked away, cheeks reddening. She closed her mouth and frowned, sheathing the dagger.

“I can see how, uh… how it looks, Professor, but… the ring’s not for you. Sorry to disappoint,” he said. Was it just Byleth, or was his voice an octave higher than usual, more squeaky than usual?

“Then… why did you show me it?” She asked, frowning. Did this have anything to do with the note that sat in her pocket, then?

Sylvain sighed, taking a seat on the windowsill as he looked at the ring. “I… have a... a bit of a conundrum, Professor. One that I think I’ll need your help to sort out.”

“Girl problems?” Byleth deadpanned. Sylvain seemed to wince at that, make a so-so gesture with his hands.

“And, uh… boy problems,” he said, slowly, his blush deepening to the same shade of red as his hair. Then Sylvain sighed, looked at the ring with a forlorn gaze.

“See, I’ve… I’ve known for a while now that… that I… kinda… sorta… have… feelings for our dear Ingrid,” he said, and Byleth frowned, but nodded.

“Go on.”

“I… I got this ring a while back, and… and I was planning on giving it to her when the war ended, but… I have two different problems.” Sylvain shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, usually-cool demeanor gone. “Problem one is I like Felix as well, in the same way, so I’m… I don’t know who to pick.”

“And problem two?” Byleth asked, raising a brow as she took a seat on the stony ground.

“Problem two is that even if I tell one of them, it wouldn’t matter, since they only seem to have eyes for each other.”

“What?” Byleth vocalized before she could think better of it. Hurriedly, she added, “I was having tea time with Ingrid the other day, and she mentioned that she likes you. Romantically. Dumbass.”

Nervous chuckling escaped Sylvain’s lips. “I doubt that,” he said, curling his fingers over the ring. “She’s always yelling at me, and besides, she looks at Felix with love in her eyes. He does the same to her, although you can’t tell it as easily with him.”

Byleth frowned. She had seen the looks Felix gave to Sylvain. It was the same sort of look her father had gotten whenever he talked about Sitri, the same look she saw in Hilda’s eyes when she talked to Marianne, the same look Cyril had in his eyes when he was studying with Lysithea. Sure, Felix had never outright stated that he liked Sylvain (or Ingrid, for that matter) romantically, but Byleth knew they were one of the few people able to bring out the good side in him.

“What do I do, Professor?” Sylvain groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I like both of them, but I don’t know who to choose. Should I even choose either of them, if they’re already in love with each other?”

The answer came to Byleth’s mouth before she could really think better of it.

“Polyamory?” Byleth said, although it came out as more of a suggestion. Sylvain looked up at her, cheeks tinged red and confusion on his face.

“What?” He voiced, as though he hadn’t heard her. Byleth sucked in a breath and let it out, tried to figure out the best way to explain it.

“Listen. You like both Ingrid and Felix. Ingrid likes both you and Felix. Felix likes you and Ingrid,” She explained, feeling her own ears redden at the fact. “Instead of having to choose between one of the two, why not choose both?”

“Really?” Sylvain asked, frowning, brows furrowing together. Byleth shrugged.

“You guys all have two hands, and you all like each other romantically,” she replied easily. “Back at the mercenary troop a few years back, there was a group of three guys and two girls all in a polyamory relationship. They got along well, so long as they talked to one another. Hypothetically speaking, if you three all like each other and are all okay with it, why not just do that? It’s easier than having to choose one and leave either one of them or yourself heartbroken.”

“I…” Sylvain voiced, before pursing his lips together and nodding. “That’s…. That’s actually a really good idea, Professor, if a bit…. Unexpected.” Then Sylvain sighed, shook his head. “But how do I even know if they’d be okay with that, if they even like me that way?”

“Ask them.” Byleth deadpanned.

The redhead groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “But I suck at this sort of stuff, Professor!” He whined. “Besides, asking someone on a date - much less two different people to be in a polyarmory, or however you say it, relationship - is a lot harder than you may think.”

Byleth bit the inside of her cheek, not daring to mention the ring in her pocket as Sylvain turned to her.

“Can you do me one last favor, Professor, and be my wingman?” He asked, rubbing the back of his head. “Without letting Ingrid or Felix know about… about the ring?”

Byleth opened her mouth, closed it, and sighed. Damn her bleeding but unbeating heart.

“Alright,” She said, nodding. Sylvain let out a sigh of relief, placing one hand on his chest.

“Oh, thank you, Professor! You are a lifesaver!” He said, before leaning forward and grabbing Byleth by the shoulders. She narrowed her eyes.

“You owe me,” Byleth replied, before frowning. “But on a different question… why did you come up to the Goddess tower just to ask me this?”

Sylvain sighed and took a step back, letting go of Byleth’s shoulders and looking around the room. “Well, I saw you leaving the dining hall, and you were alone, so… I followed you here, figuring now would be a good a time as any to ask you, since your coronation is in two weeks, and me and Ingrid and Felix will all be heading back soon.”

“So you’re not the one who sent me the note?”

“What note?” Sylvain asked, blinking. Byleth reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded note that had been slipped under her door earlier, handing it to Sylvain.

“That one,” She said with a nod. “I found it under my door after breakfast this morning. There’s no name, and I don’t recognize the handwriting. That’s why I thought you were the one who sent it to me.”

The redhead’s eyebrows furrowed as he read the note, before shaking his head and handing it back to Byleth. “No idea,” he replied. “That’s way too neat to be my handwriting, but I don’t recognize the handwriting, either. And pretty much everyone in the Blue Lions house has distinctive handwriting.”

Byleth frowned as she took the note back, folding it once more and putting it into her pocket. “Then if you didn’t send it, who did?”

The person wearing the yellow who bolted earlier?

Sylvain shrugged. “As I said, no idea.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I suppose we should head back to dinner,” Byleth replied, walking over to the stairs. Sylvain followed, filling the void of silence with chatter as they headed down and out into the chilling night air.

It was only because Byleth had spent so many hours working during the night and the cloudless night did Byleth spot a small item lying on the ground. She paused, half-listening to Sylvain as he chatted on, bending down to pick up the item; A vial, with a cork and a piece of tape on it, written in familiar handwriting, saying words Byleth couldn’t make out. But she didn’t need good light or neat handwriting to know what it was. It looked exactly like the vials Claude had in his little homemade apothecary, and the handwriting matched his as well.

So why was the vial here of all places?

**✧⭒✧⭒✧**

There were two things Byleth noticed over the course of the next few days.

One: Apparently, the three childhood friends were all dense about their feelings towards one another. Two: Claude seemed to be avoiding her.

Byleth didn’t notice it at first; she was too busy trying to push the three childhood friends together. But she was picking up signs here and there. Whenever she tried calling him over to her room for tea time or dinner or to even just chat, he always avoided her, saying he was busy or ducking away from her or going to talk to someone near him. And quite frankly, it annoyed her. Even though she was busy preparing for her upcoming coronation and swamped with paperwork and trying to set up the three friends, she still had time, courtesy of Seteth and the other Deer. Byleth liked hanging out with Claude; he was one of the few people who made her feel relaxed, feel calm, feel human.

Plus, the ring she had was still sitting in its pouch. All she had to was actually build up the courage to give it to him.

It was hard, though. Claude was an enigma, a mystery. He kept people at arm’s length, walls built up high, a seemingly-permanent smile on his face to mask whatever he was hiding inside. Sure, that mask may have disappeared some during the war, but Byleth knew Claude well enough to know he didn’t trust people. Trusting her was one thing; Claude had told her before that he trusted her, several times, called her friend. Friendship was one thing, too. He obviously liked to spend time with her, seeking her out at any opportunity to chat or have tea or train together or work on battle plans.

_~~(That made his sudden avoidance of her all the more suspicious.)~~ _

Love was an entirely different thing, though. Claude called Byleth friend, sure, but that didn’t necessarily translate to love. He had never shown much interest in dating or relationships before, for other reasons. And besides, love was… close. Intimate. Intimidating, at times. One wrong move, and it can all plunge off a cliff. So Byleth always wondered if Claude had the heart for that, if he would trust anyone - even her - enough for that.

Byleth spots him again, today, just out of the corner of her eye as she was having tea time with Felix. A flash of gold in some bushes, and Byleth looked to see Claude’s brown mop of hair weaving through the crowd. He only spared a single glance at her and gives a tiny wave before disappearing.

 _There he goes again,_ Byleth thought, frowning. Before, during the war, Claude always seemed to be cutting in on her tea times, mainly the guys. It had gotten so bad to the point where she had to start having them in her room and locking the door. She appreciated his company - appreciated him - but sometimes it felt like he was being too much. But now, he had just… ducked away. Again.

“Hey, Professor, did you hear me?”

Felix’s sharp voice cut through the haze of Byleth’s mind, and she looked over to see the swordsman looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“Ah, sorry,” Byleth said, shaking her head and turning in her seat to face him. “You were saying?”

“I was asking if, after your coronation and all that, once Fodlan settles down a little, if I could still travel here every now and then to spar,” Felix said. “But it looks like something else is capturing your attention.”

Byleth frowned, drumming her fingers on the table as she glanced back in Claude’s direction. For a few seconds, she debated telling Felix about Claude’s apparent avoidance of her, and figured that, if there was anyone Byleth could tell this to, it would be him. The grumpy swordsman was one of Byleth’s most trusted friends, after Claude and Bernedetta. After all, the rapport the two had built during the war over training had started to extend to personal lives as well; she was often the first person Felix sought advice on from, well… just about everything, except love. Specifically Sylvain and Ingrid. When it came to matters of the heart, everyone went to Hilda.

Well, just about everyone.

“I think Claude’s avoiding me,” Byleth replied, watching as Felix took a sip of his drink. Almyran Pine, one of Claude’s favorites, too. It was odd how the smell always reminded her of him. “Before Nemesis fell, we used to spend a lot of time together - you recall how he always kept barging into my tea times with you and many of the others here.”

“How could I forget?” Felix asked, raising a brow. A look Byleth couldn’t decipher crossed his face, then, something akin to a half-second smirk.

“But now, since the war’s over, it feels like I haven’t seen him other than passing glances,” She continued. “And it seems like every time I try to go talk to him or have dinner or a tea time with him, he’s avoiding me. Ducking away or claiming he’s busy or something like that.”

Frowning, she added, “Is there something wrong with him that you know of?” Claude was notorious for hiding his injuries, both physical and emotional, from everyone, Byleth included. She didn’t want him to keel over a week after their victory from some unexplained disease or poison he never told her about.

The swordsman shook his head as Byleth drank her tea, still hot. “Not that I know of. Though I have noticed him giving sour looks at Sylvain when he isn’t looking, especially when he’s around you, lately.”

Byleth frowned, trying to think if she had ever seen him doing that. In the past four days, she had been spending a lot of her free time with Sylvain, to help him build up the courage to ask both Felix and Ingrid out, per his request at the Goddess Tower.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Byleth said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the note that had been slipped under her door. She had been meaning to show it around to everyone in the monastery, but she kept forgetting. “Do you know if anyone sent this to me?”

She set the note down on the table and slid it over to Felix, who set his own cup of tea down and picked up the letter. His eyes narrowed, lips quirking, as he read it, before folding it as he shook his head.

“No clue,” he responded, handing it back to Byleth. She frowned, sighing.

“Alright,” She replied with a nod, taking the note from him. “You don’t recognize the handwriting?”

Felix shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “The only person I can think of would be Ashe, but the handwriting is too slanted to be his, and the t’s are too… curvy? Swirly? I don’t know.”

“Well, I already asked him, and he said it wasn’t him,” Byleth stated, taking a long sip of her drink. It was a bit disappointing, if she was being honest, but at least it gave her a good edge into the conversation she really wanted to get into.

“Something tells me it’s some sort of letter,” She added easily, setting her cup down. “Like a failed love letter of sorts. I don’t know for sure, though.”

“You’d think a love letter would be longer. And better written.”

“True,” Byleth said with a nod. “You know, someone once accidentally sent me a love letter meant for someone else back in the mercenary troop.” Not entirely a truth, but not exactly a lie, either.

“Someone did, eh?” Felix asked, raising a brow. “What did your old man think?”

Byleth chuckled at the memory. “He got pissed - I was only sixteen or so at the time,” she replied. “Once he figured out it was an honest mistake, though, he apologized to the guy and paid for his drinks that night.”

“How’d he figure out it was a mistake?”

 _That was almost too easy,_ Byleth thought to herself. But it seemed like everyone, especially Leonie, Claude, Ingrid, and Felix liked to hear of her tales from her mercenary days. She didn’t mind, either; it helped to keep some part of her father alive, even though she already had his ring.

“The guy, Markel, also sent similar letters to three other people,” She said, and Felix raised a brow.

“I’m sorry?”

Byleth nodded in response. “Yeah. That was the day him, Mirya, Magni, Zara, and Piercie all came out as pansexual or bisexual and in a poly relationship with one another.”

“Polyamory, huh?” Felix muttered as he raised his cup to his lips. “How’d it turn out?”

“Pretty good. Mirya and Piercie actually had a kid together, and now all five of them are raising him,” Byleth said. “Seems they’re not the only polyamory couple I’ve encountered, either.”

Felix raised a brow, what passed for a smirk rising on his face. “Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

She shrugged, taking a lazy sip from her drink. “Maybe it’s just me, but it feels like Petra, Bernedetta, and Dorthea are all going to get together after all my coronation and stuff.”

Slowly, Felix nodded his head in agreement. “I can see that,” he replied. “Those two, you, and Ferdinand seem to be the only ones who can get Bernedetta out of her shell. Not to mention her room.”

“I think she feels comfortable around Alois,” Byleth stated. “He seems to be one of the only two people she can talk to without stuttering or apologizing to.”

“The other being you,” Felix stated. Byleth nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. But I think that, with enough time and once I exile her shit-ass father, she can talk to the girls as well. They all seem to be a good match for each other.” Then she grabbed one of the cupcakes she had with her, setting it on the small plate in front of her. “What about you? Do you think you might settle down with someone after the war?”

The flush on Felix’s face was clearly visible, even as he tried to hide it by drinking his tea. When he finished, he glanced around, setting his cup down.

“Honestly, I… I don’t know,” he replied in a low voice, grumbling to himself. “But I figured that if I could tell anyone, I could tell you.”

Byleth did nothing more than raise a brow, allowing Felix to speak. He cleared his throat, setting his arms on the table as he lowered his head, just slightly.

“Sylvain…” he started, muttering under his breath. “The guy’s like a bad cough you can’t get rid of. But… he’s growing on me. A lot.” His face turned redder when he said that, and Byleth had to fight to restrain her snort. “The problem is, I think Ingrid’s got an eye on him, too.”

“You do, huh?” Byleth said slowly, picking and choosing her next words carefully as she unwrapped the paper from around the cupcake. “What makes you think that?”

Felix sighed, crossing his arms over his chest once more. “Just… the way she looks at him, and the way she speaks about him… I dare say he likes her back.”

“Really?” Byleth asked, tilting her head. “Because I heard Ingrid mention the other day that she didn’t want to leave you behind when she heard you considering becoming a mercenary and abandoning Fradalius territory.”

The swordsman sat up straighter at that, blinking. Then, he hunched down, glancing away from Byleth. “She did, huh?” he muttered. She nodded. “I… I’m not sure how to feel about that. She does have her own territory to tend to, and… If I do go, I… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Uh-huh.”

And that was the truth, too. She had already talked to Ingrid, who said she was torn between going with Felix and wanting to stay with Sylvain, if the former did abandon his territory.

Sylvain liked both Felix and Ingrid. Ingrid liked both Sylvain and Felix. Felix liked Sylvain and (although he probably didn’t realize it yet) Ingrid. In all honesty, from how Byleth looked at it, it was the perfect polyamory relationship - if they could get it to work.

“Hmph. I could’ve sworn she was batting her eyelashes at Sylvain, too,” Felix grumbled, his eyes flicking back to Byleth. “What about you, Professor? Do you think you might settle down and marry someone after the war?”

_If he accepts, then yes. If not… I’m not sure._

“Maybe,” she replied, not wanting to give a definitive answer just yet. “I’m not quite sure. I’m honestly not even sure if anyone looks at me as more than just a professor or an ally or a friend who doesn’t already have someone else in mind.” Because she didn’t know for sure if Claude liked her the same way.

“I can think of at least one person,” Felix said, taking a sip from his drink as his blush faded. “Now that I think about it, they’re probably the one who sent you the card, too.”

“Who?” Byleth asked, frowning. Felix gave a haughty chuckle.

“If they haven’t told you yet and you haven’t figured it out, then I’m not going to say anything,” he replied. “You really are dense sometimes, though. Just about everyone here has seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“How close you are with a certain someone,” Felix replied, with what Byleth assumed to be a mirth of teasing from him. She frowned at that.

The only person, as far as Byleth could tell, that she was close to at the monastery was Claude. Even now, it was hard to tell the difference between allies and friends. But she had always been close to Claude, ever since she first joined the Golden Deer house. She probably wouldn’t be there now if it wasn’t for him.

Felix kept speaking, though, snapping Byleth out of her thoughts. “You said you’ve already received the note, right? Did you see anyone when you went up to the Goddess Tower?”

“It was empty,” She lied. She didn’t want Felix to know Sylvain had roped her into helping him see if he, Ingrid and Felix would make a good polyamory couple.

Then, she recalled the flash of yellow she saw there, the vial of poison outside the tower, and Claude’s sudden avoidance of her. She didn’t know why, but something in Byleth told her it was connected, somehow. But Claude wasn’t the only one who wore yellow, however. Raphael wore it, too, and Ingrid, Catherine, and Constance all had long-ish yellow hair. A lot of the soldiers still lingering here were dressed in Alliance yellow as well.

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, before sighing. “Well, if so, then I can’t help you.” He stood up, then, pushing the cup of tea over to Byleth. “Thanks for having me, but I should get going now.”

“Goodbye,” Byleth said with a nod towards the swordsman. He nodded, too, and walked off, but not before Byleth caught what he mumbled under his breath as she bit into her cupcake.

“Knowing him, he probably chickened out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, the whole polyamory thing wasn't distasteful (I really do wish we got to see more polyamory couples in fiction) but if I said anything offensive, please tell me, and I'll see what I can do to fix it. Thanks!


	3. The Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feast is thrown in celebration of the death of Nemesis and the end of the war, and Byleth grows suspicious of Claude's behavior during it. A few days later, Byleth manages to convince Sylvain to talk to Ingrid and Felix. After, she tries to go visit Claude, but finds something much more upsetting instead.

The next day, Hilda decided to throw a celebration party for Byleth’s coronation and their defeat of Nemesis.

Byleth watched the Deer as they partied and celebrated the final, final, end of the war with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. Even Lorenz and Sylvain were engaging in the festivities, Lorenz already on his third glass of wine for the night.

Sylvain was next to Byleth, half-drunk as she ate the steak on her plate, making sure he didn’t do anything rash. Across from her, Leonie and Catherine were having an arm-wrestling match while Raphael, Caspar, Shamir and Hilda cheered them on. Manuela and Dorthea were singing up near the front of the dining hall, and Ingrid was over by the buffet, shoving food in her mouth as she talked to Felix.

Her eyes darted around the room, making sure that everyone was having a good time. From the looks of it, they appeared to be having a better time than her. Byleth had felt jittery the moment she took a seat, and she chalked it up to the bottle of mead currently in her hands. It was only when she saw Claude staring at her from afar did Byleth start to suspect something else was causing those nerves. He stiffened when he saw her, but then seemed to relax just a bit when she waved him over.

“Enjoying the party, you two?” Claude asked as he walked over, ungracefully dropping down in the empty seat next to Byleth. She didn’t miss how the smile he always wore didn’t reach his eyes, but it always looked like that in a crowd.

“Yeah!” Sylvain said, a slight slur in his voice. “You gotta admit, Hilda knows how to plan one hell of a party. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in ages!”

Claude took a sip of his drink as he focused his attention on Byleth, shooting a wink at her all the while. “What about you, Teach?” he asked once he finished drinking, and his eyes drifted down to the steak she had in front of her. “You enjoying the, uh… the rather massive piece of steak on your plate there?”

She looked at him for a moment, at his striking emerald green eyes and the smile on his face, fake as it was, the once-tousled curls now combed backwards in a mop of brown hair. A warmth spread in her chest, up her neck as she looked at him, and Byleth hurriedly nodded, looking back down to her steak and hoping he wouldn’t notice it.

_Oh, he was going to be the death of her one day, for sure,_ Byleth thought as she cut off a bite of her steak while Sylvain entertained Annette and Mercedes with some story of his.

“It’s amazing,” she replied, shoving the steak into her mouth. Definitely one of the best steaks she had ever had in her life. “You should try some.”

“Eh, maybe later,” Claude replied. “Had dinner earlier.”

“Oh, come on, Claude, try some!” Sylvain slurred, turning his attention away from the girls and towards Claude, raising his glass. “It’s amazing, for sure.”

In her peripheral vision, Byleth saw Claude frowning, before he nodded, holding a hand out, probably for Byleth to hand him a fork. She picked up Leonie’s unused fork and handed it to him, a shiver running up her arm when her fingers brushed his. Claude nudged her steak over to him, trying to cut off one end of it with a fork, to no luck. After a few seconds of watching him get nowhere, she looked around for a knife to hand to him. Upon not seeing any, Byleth sighed and unsheathed her dagger, nudged Claude’s hand away from her steak.

“Knife, Claude,” she told him, easily using the blade to cleave the steak into half.

“Ah, thanks, Teach,” Claude said, and Byleth nodded as she sheathed her dagger. She watched his face as he took a bite, savoring the smell of pine that drifted off of him.

“Well?” She asked, and Claude nodded as he swallowed, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he did so.

“‘S good,” he replied, setting the fork down. “But as I said, I had dinner earlier.”

“Your loss,” Byleth said, turning and cutting off another bite. Watched as Catherine won her match against Leonie, and the crowd that had surrounded them cheered.

“It’s still hard to believe the war is over,” Claude mentioned casually. “First Edelgard, then those who slither, then Nemesis… it’s nice to relax.”

She nodded in agreement as Sylvain spoke up. “Yeah. Though I suppose winning the war was only half the battle. You and I still have our respective territories to run, and the Professor is here is set to be the next Archbishop.”

“A job I’m not looking forward too,” Byleth grumbled, shoving some steak into her mouth. She was still shocked and bitter about Rhea’s revelation about herself and her connection to Sothis last month, and she wasn’t exactly trained in ruling a country. More than once did she debate handing the rule off to someone qualified and who deserved the role, like Claude.

Though Byleth supposed he had never been a particularly devout follower of the Church of Serios just like her, not to mention he had his own dream to attend to. Besides, even on the off chance he did accept the job and her proposal, she’d still have to be doing something, anyways.

“Well, me and Sylvain and the others are here for you, Byleth,” Claude said, and Byleth didn’t miss the hint of bitterness in his tone, especially when he said Sylvain. “Some more than others.”

Then he took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and resting one leg on top of the other, throwing his free hand over the back of Byleth’s seat. “The diplomacy is the worst part, especially with Fodlan still so… ununified, for lack of a better word. But you should be fine as long as you listen to what the people say and don’t plunge Fódlan into another war.”  
She chuckled at that, remembering all the scraps she had gotten into as a kid with the other mercenaries. “Going to be hard; I get in a lot of fights with people.”

Sylvain held up his glass. “Ah, that’s what alcohol is for, Professor,” he said. Out of the corner of her eye, Byleth saw Claude’s nose briefly scrunched up as he frowned.

“Say, shall we have a toast to Fódlan’s freedom?” He asked after a few seconds, another fake smile appearing on his face as he sat up and turned to face them, looking between her and Sylvain. Byleth nodded as Sylvain chuckled, raising his glass higher.

“I’ll drink to that,” the redhead replied, and the three of them drank their glasses together. Sylvain laughed, and Byleth felt a smile of her own crawling onto her face as she drank her mead, tasting like honey and so sweet.

A part of Byleth wondered what Claude’s lips tasted like. If they would taste as sweet as the mead.

Suddenly, the roar of the room became dull and quiet, even Sylvain and Catherine’s ruckus laughter at that, the ring seeming to burn a hole in its pouch. All week, she’d been trying to get him alone, gift him the ring and see if he would say yes. But he had been avoiding her like the plague, making it impossible to find him.

Now, though? He was right next to her. Byleth could ask him, drag him to her room or the Goddess Tower and confess. So, swallowing the lump that suddenly grew in her throat, she turned to him.

“Hey, can we talk?” She asked in a quiet voice, noticing how Claude’s hand briefly tightened around his ale. The smile he had on seemed to grow tight, strained, as he looked at her.

“Ah, I’d love to, Teach, but I’m busy,” he said, and Byleth frowned. Doing what, she asked herself, curious. Just moments ago, he was watching her as she drank her drink and thought.

“Doing what?” She voiced.

“Why, I have to and make sure everyone here is having a good time, courtesy of my role as Duke Reigan,” he replied.

No, lied, she realized, recognizing his tell, a slight scrunching of his nose, and she narrowed her eyes. Why was he lying to her? Byleth wanted to ask him. But Claude wouldn’t say anything that easily, especially not around all these people. Plus, it felt rude, unfair, to out him like that. So, instead, she sighed.

“Alright,” she said, and Sylvain laughed next to her. “Have fun.”

Claude nodded, standing up, shooting her a wink and fake grin, before going to talk to Ignatz and Lysithea. Byleth watched him talk to a few more people with a heavy… something… in her chest, until she finally focused her attention on her mead.

**✧⭒✧⭒✧**

The next two days passed quickly as Byleth searched for Claude, trying to find him, ask him why he lied to her at the party, maybe give him the ring. That was in between doing all her other work and preparing for her coronation, preparing to start on rebuilding Fodlan. But she had little time in her day, and most of that time was spent with the others, savoring their presence before they left to their own jobs and making bets with Sylvain as to who would get with one another. That left her little to no time to find Claude, much less talk to him for more than two minutes at a time.

All the while, she watched Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid dance around their shared feelings for the other two, slowly nudging them towards the idea of polyamory without actually revealing anything to the swordsman and knight-in-training. Hopefully, the other two would get smart enough or Sylvain would work up the courage to actually talk to one another. However, Felix never shared his emotions with anyone, especially feelings of love, even to the two people he did like. Sylvain didn’t have the courage to talk to them himself, and Ingrid was just dense. So, with the three of them set to depart soon, Byleth searched for Sylvain, threatening to lock the three of them in a room together until they worked it out.

“Alright, alright, I’ll… I’ll talk to them,” Sylvain said, holding his hands up at Byleth’s glare. “But before I do… Do you honestly think the two would actually be okay with polyamory?”  
  
“I don’t know - that’s why you’re going to ask,” Byleth replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now. I’m tired of watching the three of you dance around one another.”

“Fine, I’ll go,” Sylvain said. “Can you find Felix? He’s more likely to listen to you instead of me, and I’ll go find Ingrid.”

Byleth gave a sharp nod in agreement. “Meet me outside your room, so that way I can lock the door if I have too.”

Sylvain nodded, and Byleth turned to find Felix. It was a nice cool day out, summer drawing to a close as the harvest season began in preparation for winter. A few people were outside in the Officer’s academy or the grand hall, talking with one another. She strolled through them, looking for either Felix or Claude. Unsurprisingly, she found him in the training grounds, whacking his sword against a training dummy that looked like it had seen better days.

“Hey, Felix,” Byleth said, walking over to him. Felix let out one last harsh cry at a training dummy, before pausing and turning to Felix, wiping the sweat off his head.

“Oh, Professor,” he replied, dropping his sword and trading it for a canteen of water he had with him. “Are you here to spar?”

“Maybe later; Sylvain wants to talk to you.”

“He does know I’m in the middle of training, right?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Byleth said. “He just says it’s important.”

Felix frowned, before sighing. “Alright. I’ll be outside in five minutes.”

Byleth left him to get washed up and changed, hopefully. As he did so, Byleth scanned the area, hoping to find Claude so she could talk to him once she brought Felix to Sylvain. As per usual, however, there was no sign of the emerald-eyed schemer, and Byleth restrained her sigh of disappointment when Felix exited the training grounds, striding ahead of Byleth.

“Where is Sylvain?” Felix asked once Byleth caught up to him, having to take long strides to keep up with the swordsman.

“His room,” Byleth replied. She saw Felix glance at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I can get there myself.”

“He just wanted me to bring you to him. You have a problem, take it up with him.”

Not to mention a part of her kinda wanted to shove them into his room, lock the door, and leave them in there for a few hours. But she wouldn’t do that, not unless Sylvain chickened out.

“You know, have you seen Claude recently?” Byleth asked as she passed the fishing pond, hoping to catch a glimpse of the emerald-eyed schemer. “He’s still avoiding me, which is annoying, because I have a question I need to ask him.”

“No clue,” Felix said, shaking his head. The only person I can think of who would know would be Goneril.”

Byleth sighed. “I just asked her an hour ago. She didn’t know,” Byleth muttered as they started up the steps.

Sylvain was already at his door, waiting with Ingrid, making quiet chatter. She waved the redhead down, and the two looked her way, Ingrid giving a small wave at Byleth, before frowning as she looked to Sylvain.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Felix asked Sylvain as he stopped, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. Ingrid looked between the two of them as Sylvain nodded.

“Y-yeah…” he said, rubbing the back of his head and keeping an easy smile on his face, reminiscent of the fake smile Claude always wore when they were younger. Then the redhead’s eyes darted to Ingrid. “You too, Ingrid.”

“Is everything okay, Sylvain?” Ingrid asked, a note of worry in her voice. Byleth caught Sylvain’s eye; don’t chicken out.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, but nodded. “Uh-huh. Come on in, I, uh… I made tea.”

“With cookies?” Ingrid asked as Byleth took a few steps back to give them some space. Sylvain nodded.

“With cookies,” Sylvain affirmed with a nod. Felix humped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Could you make it quick? I still have training to do.”

“The war’s over, Felix; you can take a break,” Sylvain said, frowning at the swordsman’s blunt manner. He sighed, but nodded and strode through the two, walking into Sylvain’s room. Ingrid followed, and Sylvain glanced to Byleth, mouthing the words, “Thank you,” before he, too, stepped inside.

Once the door shut, Byleth turned around, hoping Sylvain wouldn’t chicken out and instead just have an impromptu tea party with his crushes. She started to walk down the hall, only to pause outside Claude’s room, frowning.

_Maybe he’s just in his room,_ Byleth thought to herself, walking up to the door. Gently, she rapped her knuckles against the door, twice, grabbing the knob with her other hand.

“Claude? Are you there?”

There was no response, so he was either silent or he wasn’t there. Letting out a sigh, Byleth knocked again.

“Claude, if you’re in there, answer the damn door,” Byleth stated with an edge to her voice. “Before I bust it down.”

Again, there was silence. So Byleth turned the handle, and the door was unlocked, opening with a soft click. Byleth knocked one last time in case he was getting changed or something, before pushing the door open and stepping in. She walked in a few steps, looking around his messy room in case he was trying to hide from her. But the room was empty, and… actually a bit less messy than normal. Some of the books that littered the floor and bed were stacked up on the edges of his desk, and Byleth noticed that his case of poisons was missing.

Alarm bells sounded in her head, then, telling her something was wrong. So Byleth started poking around the room, frowning at the newly-made bed and somewhat-cleaned up books and papers that littered it.

Her feet took her to the desk, and she noticed there was a slip of paper on the chair, with her name on it.

A prickle of fear ran down Byleth’s spine as she looked at it, before bending down and picking it up. It was a sheet of paper, folded in half like a make-shift card, the words scrawled in Claude’s familiar, messy handwriting.

_Hey. I don’t really know how to start this, so… I’m just going to say this as it is. If you’re looking for me and can’t find me, well… that’s because I’m leaving Fodlan. The war may be over, and everyone may be able to relax for a bit, but… there are still things I need to do elsewhere, dreams I need to see realized. Working together with the Almyrans at Merceus was just a step in seeing my dreams come to fruition, and I still have a mountain to cross - figuratively and literally._

_The reason I’m writing this is because I feel like… like if I told you in person, then… then you would convince me to stay, somehow. And as much as I ~~\- ---- -- ----- -- ---- ---- ---~~ , enjoy spending time with you, my friend, I still need to do this. Not just for myself, but for a lot of other people like me, who don’t have the power or influence or money or connections to make a change like I do. So I’m returning to Almyra, and hopefully, I’ll be able to use some of my connections there to take the next step I need._

_I don’t know when I’ll be back, if it’ll be in two months or ten or a year or two years or longer. But I’ll be back, I promise. For now, though, I entrust Fodlan’s care to you. Please don’t run things into the ground when I’m gone - I want to see that dream of a new world with you, my ~~\----~~ friend_

Byleth felt her heart, unbeating though it may be, dropping into a pit into her stomach, chest closing in on her. She read it once, twice, three times over, making sure she was reading it correctly, that her eyes weren't’ playing tricks on her.

But they weren’t; the words were there, clear as day, written with the utmost care, so neat it almost didn’t look like Claude’s handwriting. Her knees felt weak, mind spinning as Byleth tried to comprehend what she just read.

_This can’t be happening,_ Byleth thought to herself, spots flashing in her vision as she read the letter again, gripping the edge of Claude’s desk to keep her steady. _He… he really can’t be leaving, can he? And… and right before my coronation… right before I… before I could give him the ring._

No, no no no, this had to be some cruel trick, cruel joke Claude was playing on her, it had to be. What other explanation could there-

Byleth froze, then, bile and anger rising up in her chest, her throat, and she ground her teeth together. Claude had been acting weird ever since Nemesis' defeat, constantly avoiding Byleth. Was this why? Because he was planning on up and just leaving Fodlan, the Deer, _her?_

She needed to find him. **_Now._**

Crumpling the note in her fist and tossing it on the ground, Byleth stormed out of Claude’s room, down the hallway and onto the first floor, trying to think of any place he might be. Maybe he hadn’t left yet. Maybe he was still somewhere in the monastery. But Garreg Mach was massive, though. It would take her ages to check every nook and cranny of it looking for him, especially if she did it by herself. She could tell the others, but… she wanted a word with him. Alone.

He did say he was going to Almyra, and he did have his wyvern. Meaning he would have to be outside (ruling Abyss out), in an area big enough for a wyvern, but secluded enough where no one would find him and ask him what he was doing. The stables were out, as was the training grounds, and probably the chapel. Maybe the bridge leading to it, but…

Unless he was somewhere outside Garreg Mach, where none of the Deer were. So, Byleth headed past the greenhouse and the fishing pond to the marketplace. If there was anyone who would see if Claude left or not, it would be the gatekeeper, Carlos.

“Greetings, Professor!” Carlos said to Byleth as she walked over to him, waving his usual friendly wave. “Nothing to report!”

“Good, but that’s not why I’m here,” Byleth said, stopping next to him and trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. Carlos blinked from under his visor, before tilting his head. “Do you happen to know where Claude is at? I’ve been looking for him everywhere, but I can’t find him.”

“Von Reigan?” Carlos voiced, before rubbing his chin as he looked to the gates at the end of the marketplace. “I think I saw him leaving earlier with his wyvern, saying he was going to go hunting.”

_So he is outside the monastery,_ Byleth thought to herself. Her eyes quickly darted to the sky, searching for any trace of his albino wyvern, but Byleth didn’t see her, for better or for worse.

“How long ago?” Byleth asked, and Carlos frowned.

“I think… thirty or so minutes ago.”

Byleth nodded, turning to face the marketplace. “Okay, thanks. I’m going to go look for him,” she mentioned, taking a step, before pausing and looking at the gatekeeper over her shoulder. “If you see Claude, can you tell him I need to see him in my room? And if he tries to flee, I’ll wring his neck?”

Carlos startled, eyes widening in surprise, before he nodded. “Sure thing, Professor,” he said. “If I see him, I’ll tell him.”

Nodding her thanks to the man, Byleth turned and strode down the steps to the marketplace, debating whether or not she should kiss or kill Claude when she found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)


	4. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth finds Claude as he's getting ready to leave

“Ngh… come on, you damn bag, close already!” Claude grunted as he tried to snap shut one of the buttons on the travel pack attached to Terru’s back. Maybe he had brought too many books with him this time.

After the fifth try, the button finally snapped on, and Claude let out a sigh of relief, blowing on his fingers, at the indentations the buttons made on them. For now, it would hold, but Claude had to hope that the button wouldn’t snap open again during the flight. Picking up one of the rabbits he had shot stolen from the kitchen before he left, Claude handed it to Terru, smiling when the wyvern snatched the critter out of his hand, nearly biting it off in the process. The beast happily gobbled it up, and Claude ran a hand over her scales, more so to soothe his own nerves than petting her.

Once more, he cast a forlorn glance to Garreg Mach, at the Crest of Flames banners flapping in the light summer breeze, the banners he helped to design. (Ignatz and the Crest itself did most of the work for him). For the fifth time that day, Claude was struck with the urge to go back, greet his friends, say he brought dinner, and pretend like he wasn’t just about to leave to go to Almyra.

The urge to go back and see Byleth smile again, fish with her at the docks, train with her at the training grounds, laugh over a cup of tea or some dinner was strong. But Claude shook that thought away, despite the panging protest of his heart, facing Terru again and continuing to adjust and check the satchels full of memories he brought with him.

He had already written the letter. Already tidied his room up some. Already made himself the promise he would return to Almyra once the war was over, to see his dream through.

But already had Sylvain proposed to her, gifted her a ring, promised that he would be the one there for her: not Claude. He would be the one to see her laugh, see her smile, feel the warmth of her skin and taste her lips. Not Claude.

_Not Claude._

_Not Claude._

_Not Claude._

Again did Claude’s throat start to tighten at that thought, and he shook it away, forcing himself to breathe despite how hard it felt. Whether or not he was going to Almyra, Byleth would still be with Sylvain. He just hoped that the distance between them, that not seeing her every day, would help mend his broken heart. His cousin’s taunting laugh rang in the back of Claude’s mind, hollow and distant, from a memory long faded. Claude couldn’t remember what they were arguing about that time, only that the words he said were sticking to him like a ghost, a disease, clinging to his skin, his brain, refusing to let go.

 _“Running away again?”_ The memory taunted in Claude’s ear as he ran a hand over Terru’s scales. _“Hmph. That’s not surprising. Your father may be from Almyra, but your mother is a Fodlan-born coward. They always run from everything. It would make sense that you run from everything, too.”_

He didn’t remember the specific details, but Claude had always said that his mother never ran because she was a coward. Claude had promised himself that he would do the same, that he would only run if absolutely necessary, like when the bandits attacked. But now, Claude can’t help but think he broke that promise, now. After all, he had been too afraid to tell Byleth about his feelings, scared that he would get hurt or she would turn him down. And that cowardice had gotten Byleth stolen from him, just moments before he was about to give her his own ring.

For the last few months, Claude had told himself that he’d been delaying telling her because he wanted to wait until Fodlan had peace, until everything was peaceful again. But as Claude looked back on it now, he realized he was just being a coward, that he was just trying to delay any possible heartbreak he might have.

This, however? This was worse. At least that, if Byleth turned him down, Claude could still at least try to be friends with her, even if he pined from afar. But seeing her with someone else - someone like Sylvain, too - hurt. He was, quite frankly, jealous of Sylvain, angry at himself, and hurt.

At that moment, Terru leaned down and butted her head against Claude’s, making a snorting sound oddly similar to concern. Claude let out a small, sad chuckle, then grimacing when the beast licked him.

“Ah, geez, Terru,” Claude said, wiping the drool off the side of his face with his hand. “I thought I told you not to do that. Now my face is all wet and sticky.”

The beast snorted, headbutting Claude again with her nose, flapping her wings. He laughed, trying to wipe the rest of the drool off his face. It was at that moment did he hear footsteps, fast and soft at first, but louder, pounding, almost angry.

_**“Claude!”** _

No, not angry: _furious._

Claude froze, recognizing that voice: Byleth. His mind went in several different directions at once, mostly panic at Byleth finding him out. She sounded pissed off, too - not good for him. He whirled, seeing her at the edge of the clearing, hands balled into fists and shaking, looking angrier than he had ever seen her before

“What the _fuck_ , Claude?!” Byleth snapped at him as she stomped over, grabbing the collar of his jacket. Before he could react, Byleth shoved him backward until he hit a tree, inciting a noise of surprise from him, and it took all his efforts to not reach for his dagger. Instead, he scrambled for words, for an explanation or another ( _another_!) lie. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I do-” he started, before cutting himself off, cursing himself, and looking away from her piercing gaze. It would _not_ be a good idea to lie to her right now. “...I see you got my note.”

“What the hell do you think, dumbass?” Claude shifted, forcing himself to meet Byleth’s gaze, and his heart squirmed in his chest when he saw the anger in her eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, up and vanishing just like that, not telling anyone and instead leaving a note in your room? And a week before my coronation, no less!”

“Ah, I…” Pausing, Claude sucked in a breath and let out a sigh. “You read the note, Byleth. I… I already told you why I was leaving.”

Well, seeing his dream come true was just part of it. The other was wanting to leave so he didn’t have to watch Byleth be happy with another man was the other. Not like he would tell Byleth that. Jealousy, after all, was an ugly emotion.

Byleth looked through him, mouth forming into a thin line. If she wasn’t already pinning him to the tree with her fists, her gaze would be. Claude shifted, shifting to and away from Byleth.

“Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me,” Byleth hissed, voice low.

“I already said it in the note, too,” Claude said. “I… I didn’t want to risk staying and giving… giving up on my dream if you all wanted me to stay…”

Byleth sucked in a breath, closing her eyes, and let it out, before looking up at Claude, still keeping her grip on the collar of his shirt. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“No,” Claude said, holding his hands up in surrender. Well, partly. Not like he would tell her the real reason; because he was jealous and heartbroken. “That’s... that’s not why.”

“Well, then why the hell have you been avoiding me all week?” Byleth asked, and Claude could hear her failing efforts to hide her anger. Claude opened his mouth, closed it, and glanced away, wondering how much he should say, if he should even say anything.

Eventually, he decided to settle on the vague but simple, “It’s complicated.”

Not that Byleth could be satisfied with that. “No, it’s not, Claude. You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t know for the life of me why.”

 _And I’m not going to let you,_ Claude thought bitterly. How hypocritical was that? He was starting to sound like Aelfric, in some ways.

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” Claude repeated, lips twisting upwards into a bitter smile, only for it to fall when Byleth glared at him. “But it’s nothing against you, Byleth.”

“Really?” Byleth asked, quirking a brow up. “Because you’re the one avoiding _me_. Not the others.”

Letting out a breath, Claude shifted in his place, dropping his hands to his side, fidgeting with the pom-poms of his scarf.

“As I said, I’m not avoiding you, Byleth,” Claude repeated, more firmly this time. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all. I am the leader of the Alliance, after all.”

_Right now, at least._

“I’ve seen you everywhere outside your room, but you never actually come and talk to me or stay for more than two minutes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re running away from me.” Then Byleth’s eyes narrowed, and she deadpanned, “Oh, wait, you are.”

Claude winced inwardly at that, the words striking closer to home than he cared to admit. One of the things Claude always liked about Byleth was how she never minced her words, but now it was just downright irritating.

“I’m not running away from you, Byleth, or the Deer, or my position in the Alliance. I’m not running away from anything,” Claude told her. Another lie, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m going to try and start working towards my dream, to try and unite Fódlan and Almyra. I’m not avoiding you, Byleth, and I’m not running away.”

Byleth’s gaze sharpened to a knife’s point, her grip on his collar tightening. When she spoke, her voice was low, deadly, piercing.

“I **_really_ **hope you aren’t lying to me, Claude.”

Claude may have been able to hide his wince, but he couldn’t hide his flinch at her words, because it was true; he was running, in a way. Running from her, from his feelings. He had been lying to her for a while, now, to both of them, and they both knew it. It was a stab to the chest, a low blow, one he deserved. 

“Fine,” Claude grumbled, looking away when he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. It made his own heart squirm painfully in his chest, throat closing up. “I... I have been avoiding you.”

“ _Dammit, Claude_!” Byleth snapped at him, leaning forward and closing the distance between their faces. Claude sucked in a breath, eyes darting to her face, her smooth skin and long eyelashes and peach-colored lips-

A part of him wondered what Byleth would do if he kissed her, there and then.

But he wouldn’t, and besides, it was a horrible time to do so, anyways. Not to mention reveal his secret, long-pining and unrequited love for her, and Byleth spoke before he could do anything rash.

“I thought we were past this point in our relationship,” she hissed at him, voice equal parts pissed and hurt. “I thought we were past the point where you lied to me and kept hiding everything from me and tried to use me!”

“I-“ Claude started, before sucking in a breath and letting it out. “I... I know, and I’m sorry, but-“

Claude cut himself off before he could finish that sentence, before he could let it spill and wreck their relationship and his relationship with Sylvain and Byleth’s relationship with him.

“But what?”

When Claude didn’t reply, Byleth sighed, gaze turning from angry to worried. “Did I do something wrong?” She asked him, voice sad, quiet, and Claude immediately shook his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he said, because technically, it wasn’t her fault; it was Sylvain’s. How could she, when she didn’t even know Claude liked her?

“Then what, Claude?” Byleth asked, a prickle of annoyance sneaking back into her voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Claude grumbled, shaking his head, refusing to meet Byleth’s gaze. He stepped to the side, then, tugging his collar out of Byleth’s grip. She let him go, but still followed him with that piercing gaze of hers, that apex predator look only she and Felix had.

“Yes, it does,” Byleth said. “If something’s wrong, Claude, I want to help.”

“Well, maybe you can’t, Byleth,” Claude snapped at her a little harsher then he meant as he stepped towards her. Then he sucked in a breath, clenching his hands into fists, let it out, and started pacing.

“I can try,” Byleth said, voice soft. Claude couldn’t keep his bitter chuckle from escaping his lips.

“No, you can’t, my friend,” he replied. “You can’t fix everything.”

Her jaw set. “I. Can. Try.”

“You can’t fix this, By,” Claude said, his nickname for her when they were alone sliding off his tongue like honey. “You just… you can’t.”

She stepped forward, then, grabbed his wrist with a gentle but firm grip, strong enough to stop him but not strong enough to make him stay if he really wanted to go. Claude paused, looking at her, a thousand and one emotions bubbling up in his chest, and he suddenly found it hard to to breathe.

“We’re partners in this war, Claude,” Byleth started, her voice quiet, gaze flicking between the ground and his eyes. “But… more than that, you’re my friend. The first person to ever call me their friend-” Claude winced at that- “And if something’s wrong, I want to help.”

Claude swallowed the lump in his throat, before letting out a shaky sigh and turning to her, letting out a sigh.

“Just drop it, By, please,” Claude asked, voice a bare whisper. He couldn’t bear this interrogation any more, couldn’t bear feeling his heart break one more time.

Byleth looked up at him, and Claude could see the gears turning in her head, jaw clenching and unclenching as she thought. But more than that, he could see the hurt in her eyes, the sadness in her expression. And before Claude could say anything, Byleth let out a sigh and stepped back, letting go of his hand.

“Fine,” she spat out in a bitter voice, averting her gaze, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Go on, then. I won’t stop you, Claude. Just… wait for me, alright?”

She paused for just the barest moment, not looking at him, hands flexing, and Claude wanted to say something, to do something to ease Byleth’s pain, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t find the words. He was just barely able to catch the tear that started to roll down her cheek before she turned and dashed off.

Claude stepped forward, Byleth’s name on his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out, dying on his lips as he paused in his movement.

For a few minutes, he just stared in the direction she left, mind blank other than the fact that he had made Byleth, the famed Ashen Demon, the girl without a heartbeat, the soon-to-be-Archbishop of Fodlan, the girl he loved, _cry_.

What a _**jackass** _he was.

Claude wasn’t sure what hurt worse - seeing Sylvain with a ring, or seeing Byleth cry, only that, for the second time within a week, his heart had been torn from his chest and shredded into pieces.

That wasn’t what he wanted. That was the last thing he wanted, to see Byleth cry again, to be the reason she was crying. Claude had just wanted to leave Fodlan and go back to Almyra, not have to watch as Byleth went and got engaged and married to Sylvain. He just wanted some time to mend his heart, to see if he would find someone else just as great and wonderful and strong as Byleth-

Oh, who was Claude kidding; he would never find someone as good as Byleth.

He thought that, maybe, if he waited long enough, had enough time to heal and mend his heart, Claude could get over her. Could be in the same room with her without casting long-pining gazes at her or having his heart flutter every time she smiled or stumbling over his words when he looked at her, could just go back to being friends. But now, recalling the hurt and anger he saw in her gaze…

Claude was pretty sure he destroyed whatever friendship he could have with her. And, well, even if he couldn’t be with her, even if he may have just ruined his friendship, he couldn’t just leave her like that.

So, letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair, Claude sat down on the ground and figured out how he could comfort her without revealing his most well-kept secret.

And yes, that included him being the prince of Almyra.


	5. Realization (a little too late)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth copes with Claude's departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: angst ahead

Byleth couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t believe it. Claude was leaving, without her.

It felt like a bad dream come to life, the only other person aside from her father that she loved with all of her unbeating heart leaving.

Leaving Fodlan.

Leaving the Deer.

Leaving _her_.

So soon after they conquered Enbarr together, so soon after he comforted Byleth once they found out who she really was, so soon after they defeated Nemesis together.

Sure, a part of Byleth always knew that she may not be able to have him, that he wouldn’t feel the same way she felt about him. But she had always figured that he would at least still be there for her, that she could still go to him when she was upset or angry or scared, that they could still be friends. She just didn’t expect him to be leaving Fodlan entirely, crossing Fodlan’s Throat to go to Almyra, and leaving her to do a job that she had zero experience doing. That destroyed any and all chance of them being just friends, of Byleth still just being able to be there with him.

_Why didn’t you give him the ring?_ Something inside her asked, an annoying echo of Sothis’ voice in her mind. Byleth didn’t quite know.

Maybe she didn’t give it to him because he lied to her, after coming so far in their relationship - when was the last time he lied to her?

Maybe because he just wrote her a letter goodbye and stuck it on top of his desk instead of telling her, intending to disappear like the wind.

Or maybe it was because Byleth’s thoughts, her fears, had been true, that Claude really didn’t care about relationships and wasn’t ever going to let someone in romantically because he was too distrusting and wary and afraid and love was too intimate and intimidating for even someone like Byleth, no less someone like Claude. Maybe it was because of that she didn’t tell him, because she didn’t want her last memory of him before he left to be Claude’s sorries and apologizes that he didn’t love her, that he _couldn’t_.

What Byleth did know, however, was that she felt like she couldn’t breathe, that there was this spiking, tearing pain in her chest, a pain she hadn’t felt since the early days of her dad’s death. Maybe even worse, because this time she didn’t have anyone she could turn to and talk about it.

Claude was leaving. Sothis and her father had already left her. And it wasn’t as if she could just tell the Deer she was crying because she was heartbroken over her unrequited love for Claude, who didn’t feel the same way she felt because he couldn’t trust someone.

Or, even worse, what if he did, but he just didn’t feel love for her, but instead he found someone else while in Almyra? Someone better than her, someone kinder than her, someone who didn’t have as much blood on their hands as she did, someone who could name every emotion that she felt, someone with a beating heart.

Someone _normal._

And if that was the case, what would Byleth do then, if Claude came back with a ring of his own on his finger, with someone who was receiving the love she so desperately craved from him? Would she tell him and hope he would be with her, or would she just watch from afar, putting on her own fake smile and watching as he danced and laugh and sung with another woman, someone better than her?

Byleth didn’t know when she reached the village, only that she found herself with her back pressed to the wall of some building, tears burning in the corners of her eyes, knees weak and unsteady, barely able to keep her up; the wall was doing most of that. She didn’t know how long she cried for, trying to push down the aching pain in her chest and breathe.

Slowly, her breathing grew less ragged, knees slowly getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. After about five or so minutes, Byleth managed to push herself off the wall and start stumbling back towards Garreg Mach.

Carlos greeted her with the same cheerful smile he almost always had on when Byleth reached the gates, waving at her.

“Greetings, Professor!” He said, and Byleth gave a lackluster wave back. “Did you find Claude?”

_Yes,_ she thought with her mind. With her mouth, she said, “No, but the forest is pretty big. I just figured it was worth a shot.”

“Ah,” Carlos said, before casting his gaze to the sky. Byleth followed, searching for the gleam of a white wyvern in the sun, flying towards the east, towards a rising sun, towards his dream.

Oh, who was Byleth kidding - he probably left the moment she disappeared in the forest, ten minutes ago.

“Well, it’s getting late. He’ll probably be back before dinner.”

_No._

“Yes. Probably.”

Bidding goodbye to Carlos, Byleth walked off towards the dorms, past the dining hall where she shared so many meals with Claude and the fishing pond where they fed the cats with the fish she caught once and the greenhouse where he got himself sick investigating a new plant as a student. Before, Byleth had been considering moving the location where she did her work to Derdriu, partly because that was where Claude’s estate was at, but mostly just because she couldn’t sleep in Rhea’s room or be anywhere near the place where she essentially tried to kill him.

Now she would have to, though - Garreg Mach was filled with too many memories of her and the Deer and her father and now Claude, of people that would all leave soon, if they hadn’t left already. She couldn’t bear to see the mischievous gleam of Claude’s eyes or the echo of Sothis’ voice or the gruff laughter of her father everywhere she went. If Claude really was going to Almyra, then surely he wouldn’t care if Byleth took over his old estate or not, she thought bitterly.

The first place she wanted to head to was her room, to cry and maybe eat some and definitely sleep this aching pain away. But at the last second, she changed her mind and headed up to the second floor of the dorms. Not only could she check in and see if the childhood friend trio actually got together, but she could clear out Claude’s room. Tomorrow, she would tell the others about Claude’s leaving to go to Almyra. For now, she would allow herself this day to cry. And when Byleth opened his door, only for the smell of pine - the smell of _him_ \- to hit her nose, she almost broke down right there.

But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the door and let out a shaky sigh, rubbing at her nose, tried to rub the smell of him away, and did what she did best - delve into her work. Mostly, that just consisted of cleaning up the mess of books and papers and shit he had on the floor - did he ever clean? The first thing she picked up was the goodbye note he had left her, carefully uncrumpling it. For a few minutes, Byleth wondered what to do with it - after all, it seemed to be addressed more to her than any of the Deer. Then her grip tightened, crumpling the edges of the paper, and walked over to the trash can he had at his desk and tossed it in. If it wasn't a fire hazard, Byleth would consider burning it with a fireball there and then.

Byleth spent the next half-hour cleaning Claude’s room and picking up all the shit he had left there, stacking books on the desk and rifling through papers to see if she would have to keep them or not. That was how she found the note.

At first glance, it was just another piece of paper Claude had balled up and tossed into the corner. It was only when she opened it up to read its contents did she realize what it was.

The handwriting was, for once, easily legible, written with great care, unlike the goodbye letter from before, and long. But the contents were even more important than the handwriting.

_Byleth_

_Thanks for meeting me out here… There are a few things I want to say to you, but first and foremost I wanted to thank you for all your help throughout this war. There’s so much I couldn’t have done without you, and now, our war against Edelgard and the Empire is coming to an end. I don’t know if I can - if I’ll ever be able - to repay you for all your help._

_Second off… It may be a bad time to mention it, but… I’m going to leave Fodlan sometime soon. There are still promises that I need to keep, dreams I need to see realized… I’ve done everything I can to open up the borders on this side of Fodlan’s Throat, but… I know I can do more if I go back to Almyra. I have connections there that can help me to achieve my dream. And that brings me to the third thing I want to say._

**(If Rhea is dead):** _I know I’m thrusting this whole ‘leading the church’ thing onto you out of the blue, but… I leave this job, leave the unification of Fodlan, to you. You’re the successor Rhea appointed, and now the hero of Fodlan for defeating the Empire. And you’re a good leader, too, and… I want a ruler who can lay down a new set of values for people, values that don’t exclude anyone for being different. It’s a lot to ask, but… I need you to be that ruler. And I want you to accept this, too._

**(If Rhea is alive):** _I don’t know what you’re planning on doing next, now that Rhea is going to become Archbishop again, if you’re going to become a professor or a knight or just go back to being a mercenary. But… no matter what you choose, will you consider coming to Almyra with me? And will you consider accepting this?_

It ended there, with nothing else said, and Byleth started at it for a few seconds, wondering what the hell it was she just read. All that she did know - or, at least, assumed - was that this was written before Edelgard’s defeat of Enbarr, based on the separate last two sections.

Hell, if anything, it looked more like some kind of guideline than anything else. But why were the two different sections? What was this whole… letter thing? And what did Claude want her to accept?

Then, just like that, it _clicked_.

The note. The flash of yellow - _gold_ \- at the Goddess Tower. The vial of poison she found outside it. Claude’s sudden avoidance of her. The looks he was giving Sylvain. His insistence on not saying anything about why he was leaving so abruptly, why he was avoiding her. The dashes in his goodbye note, the crossed-out want on the note, the handwriting of it.

It was Claude who sent her the note. Claude who wanted her to come to the Goddess Tower. Claude who had been wearing the flash of gold she had seen, who had dropped the vial outside the doors.

But worse than that, it was Claude who had been eavesdropping on her when-

**_When Sylvain showed her the ring that he couldn’t decide who to give to._ **

The realization hit Byleth like a sword to the chest, carving a hole into it as the world seemed to drop out from beneath her feet, knocking the breath out of her chest.

It wasn’t Sylvain who was planning to propose to her. It was Claude. That flash of gold she saw on the stairs just bare seconds after Sylvain showed Byleth the ring was him.

He… he must have heard her comment: _“Is… is that a ring?”_

He must have seen the ring, gleaming in the moonlight.

He must have thought Sylvain had asked the question he never got to ask.

Must have thought that she would say yes to Sylvain, not him.

Must have thought Sylvain was going to spend his life with Byleth, not him.

Must have avoided her because he was jealous of Sylvain.

And Byleth just drove him away without asking her question, without asking him.

Panic and guilt and anger flared in Byleth’s chest, pushing against her ribcage, a triple-whammy of emotions she hated, frantic as a bird trying to escape a gilded cage. Along with the utter sadness she felt, anger and guilt built up, threatening to drown her, still aching despite her unbeating heart, knowing this was the reason Claude was avoiding her, why he had been so evasive with her, with his feelings, why he wouldn't say anything _why didn’t she say something, why did she just ask him to wait instead of being hers_ -

Maybe if she was quick enough, Byleth could find him. If she found Seteth or Hilda or Petra or Ashe, maybe she could race after him, try to find Claude, apologize and hope he would say yes.

But that would be if she could find him, if she could even catch up to him before he got to the Throat. The land spanning the area between Garreg Mach and the Throat was long, but it was easy to traverse on a wyvern, and Claude’s wyvern was ridiculously fast, not to mention he had probably left a good hour or so ago. He had a massive head start on her, more so if he decided to not rest until he got to the Throat or even beyond. And if he got to the Throat, he could just disappear, since Byleth had no gods-damn idea where he would be going. Gods knew where he would be right now, not to mention the sun was starting to set and everyone had to be tired and-

Byleth felt like she couldn’t breathe, like someone had wrapped a hand around her throat, and was slowly choking her to death. For all intents and purposes, she was, an icy hand of panic and sadness and anger clasping around her.

Gods, what kind of coward was she, not saying anything before, not saying anything before he left, not giving him the ring and asking for his hand? Sothis was right, she was a fool, a complete and utter fool. And it wasn’t like she could use Divine Pulse and go back to the forest, ask him and hope he stayed. The furthest she could pull back time was fifteen minutes, and it always left her exhausted and tired and drained afterward. Any longer, too, and time just slipped from her grasp, the world moving forward whether she wanted it too or not.

So what should she do, then? Should she try to chase after Claude and see if she could find him before he left for Almyra? Or should Byleth just wait here, wait until he returns, wait to see if he found someone else to replace her? Would it be better to wait, or would it be better to go find him, before he left?

She didn’t know - he was probably angry at her, probably gone, she probably couldn’t do anything at this point, but maybe, maybe if she was fast enough-

Oh, who was Byleth kidding? He was probably gone by now. And there wasn’t a wyvern, pegasi or horse in the army fast enough to catch up him.

Feeling this crushing feeling in her chest, Byleth stood up from where she had collapsed onto Claude’s bed, knees weak, her hand crumpling the paper. Gods, she really was a fool, a mindless idiot. Sothis was right. What would the gremlin say if she were here now? Would she yell at Byleth for not saying anything, for not having the backbone to like she did, or would she try to comfort her? Byleth wasn't sure.

Byleth had been planning on grabbing dinner and taking it back to her room after clearing Claude’s room, seeing if the childhood trio actually got together. But now, she didn’t think she had the stomach to eat anything. She just wanted to lay down and do what she did best - sleep this crushing feeling in her chest away, the way she had after her dad had died, shove these emotions down in her chest and become the unflappable Ashen Demon, the girl with an unbeating heart, who didn't feel.

It felt like Byleth was swimming through the world as she walked down the dormitories and the first floor, back to her room. People waved hi and talked to her and spoke to her, but she barely registered them, much less managed to respond. The most she could give was a simple wave. The silence and darkness of her room in the setting evening sun were blissful, welcoming, as Byleth walked in. But she could still hear Sothis’ chiming laughter as he spoke to her, see Claude laughing as they shared a cup of tea, could feel the calluses of her father’s hands as he rubbed her head a week after she moved in and visited her.

It made her throat close up more, and Byleth shut the door behind her, using it to support herself up as she clutched the letter to her chest, fighting back tears that threatened to burst. _Breathe in, breathe out… breathe in, breathe out… breathe in, breathe out…_

Byleth knew she could cry, but she didn’t want to, not alone, not by herself. She hated crying, but she hated crying alone, more. At least, after her father’s death, she had Sothis and Claude to be with her.

But, somehow, the tears found their way out, dripping down her cheeks as Byleth fought to regain control of her breath, of her senses, tried to reassure herself that she would see him again - his note had said that, right?

~~_(Then again, he had once told her they would always walk in step, but now he was charging ahead of her for his dream)._ ~~

It took Byleth a lot longer than she cared to admit to calm down, to wipe away the tears and be able to stand without swaying, her mind still trying to comprehend this, comprehend his absence, comprehend Claude’s unrequited love for her, the same love she felt but hadn’t said anything about because she felt the same way.

The sky was dark out, now, soft moonlight filtering through her window as Byleth stood in the middle of the room, dazed, like a lost puppy. She wanted to sleep, but maybe…

Maybe she could write to him. Maybe she could send Claude a letter and give it to her fastest messenger, hope the note would reach Hilda’s estate or Fodlan’s Throat before he did, hope he would read it and come back.

She knew it was just a silly dream, a silly hope, that her fastest messenger would reach the Throat long after Claude did, but-

Well, it was worth a shot.

✧⭒✧⭒✧

**~~_I’m sorry, Claude, I should’ve tried harder-_ ~~ **

**~~_Claude, if you get this, I just want to say I fucked up-_ ~~ **

**~~_I was an idiot, I should’ve seen it sooner-_ ~~ **

**~~_Sylvain never asked for my hand, and I would’ve turned him down anyways-_ ~~ **

**~~_I want you, Claude, not Sylvain. I only want you_ ~~ **

✧⭒✧⭒✧

In the end, all Byleth ended up with were a bunch of half-finished and poorly written letters. Letters with wet ink and wet tears. Letters ripped up or torn into shreds. Letters with words that could never convey how she really felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sets down a box of blankets and comfort cookies while grinning evilly*


	6. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude attempts to mend friendships and finds something else out instead

Claude hadn’t been scared of much throughout his life.

He grew used to people attempting to assassinate him by age eleven. He grew used to the sight and feeling of riding on wyverns by the time he was thirteen. He grew used to seeing dead bodies on a ground, stained in red, by the time he was seventeen. None of that scared him. He _had_ been scared of the Javelins of Lights, he will admit that. But not for long, for he realized quickly they couldn’t attack Garreg Mach, and he still had his friends with him. He hadn’t been scared facing off against Nemesis, the ancient King of Liberation.

But he was scared of his own feelings.

And right now, they were black shadows with red eyes and smiles sharp as knives, looming over him as Claude stood in front of Byleth’s door.

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to think of something he could say to Byleth, something he could tell her to say he was sorry without revealing too much. And what he had wasn’t really much, even. But he couldn’t just leave after hurting Byleth’s feelings like that.

More than once did Claude raise his hand to knock, only to lower it, just staring at the spirals of the wood in it.

Byleth already had Sylvain. And it wasn’t like he could just tell her why he was avoiding her without outright stating that he was jealous, that he loved her, and risk wrecking their relationship. He could just go, he knew, leave to Almyra, and Byleth wouldn’t even have to know he came back. But he couldn’t just leave her sad and upset and heartbroken like that, either. Maybe he could extend his stay for a day or two, catch some stolen moments with her to remember in the future, apologize and hope to make it right.

_Go. Stay. Go. Stay. Go. Stay. Go._

_Stay._ Raise his hand.

 _Go._ Lower it.

 _Stay._ Raise it.

Then he was knocking on the door, lightly rapping his knuckles on the wood.

Maybe she was sleeping. Maybe Byleth wouldn’t hear him. Maybe Claude wouldn’t have to bare his heart to her and risk getting it broken again. Maybe he could just turn around and leave, a shadow passing through the forest.

Byleth’s voice, gentle, quiet, sad, filtered through the door.

“Whoever it is, go away. I’m not in the mood.”

She was awake. She heard him, or at least the knock. Maybe he could try again, tear down his walls, let Byleth in and see if she stayed, if he would have to put them up again, stronger, see if he could be with her.

Another knock. Claude opened his mouth, too, to talk, but couldn’t find the words.

There was sighing from the other side, and the sound of a chair sliding backward, footsteps on the wood floor. They were quiet, soft. Then the door opened just moments later to show Byleth standing on the other side. Her eyes - puffy and red from crying - widened when she saw him, and Claude heard her breath hitch. He didn’t give her a chance to anything, though, before he stepped forward and wrapped his hands around her, pulling Byleth into a hug.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Claude whispered into her ear, wrapping one hand around her back. The other tangled itself in her hair, pressing Byleth’s head into his shoulder. It was all he could manage to get out right now, but he hoped Byleth didn’t need anything else.

For a moment, Byleth was still, frozen in her place, not moving. Then, her head lowered as she reached up and grabbed the fabric of his coat with her hands.

“Bastard,” she whispered, voice cracking as she dug her head further into Claude’s shoulder. “I thought you left me.”

Claude sucked in a breath, partly to just smell the scent of the vanilla soap she used for her hair.

“It’s my fault you got upset, Byleth... I couldn’t just leave you like that,” he replied. “I... I’m sorry that I lied to you. I never meant to hurt you.”

To Claude’s disappointment, Byleth pulled back from the hug, looking up at him with sadness in her eyes. At least she was still holding his hands, and he could feel the heat from her skin even through the thickness of his gloves.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Byleth asked him again, voice quiet. Claude gulped.

“Because I knew if I told you guys, you and the Deer would convince me to stay, make me not want to leave,” Claude told her. He forced himself to keep her gaze, to not let his eyes drift down to her lips.

_(Meanwhile, another part of him wondered how Byleth would react if he leaned down and kissed her)._

Byleth nodded, and Claude could see the unspoken questions in her eyes, shifted. Prepared for a sort of interrogation from her, to be bombarded by question after question until she was satisfied. Instead, Byleth started flicking her hand over his thumb, looking down at the ground, wistfulness in her eyes. When she spoke, it was not a question Claude was expecting to hear. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t surprised by it.

“Want some tea?”

“Sure,” Claude managed to croak out. Tea. That sounded nice. Tea always helped to calm his nerves on more than one occasion, and right now, his mouth felt like a desert. Maybe he could pretend like it was still wartime, like they were going over battle strategies instead of the specifics as to why he was avoiding her.

Byleth gave a short, simple nod, stepping back again and pulling her hands away from Claude’s. He tried not to be too sad about the lack of contact, of warmth.

“What do you want?” She asked, walking over to her desk, where she kept the tea set. “I ran out of Almyran pine the other day, and haven’t the chance to go shopping.”

_(Unbeknownst to Claude, Byleth had actually thrown it away after another failed letter, the smell reminding her too much of him)._

“Uhh, chamomile is fine,” he replied, taking a seat at her table. The chair creaked under his weight, like an old stair about to break under his foot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Byleth nod.

“Two cups of chamomile, coming right up,” she said softly, so soft it almost sounded like it was to herself more so than Claude.

Claude let out a silent sigh as he shifted in his chair, silence spreading between the two of them as Byleth prepared the tea. He tried to think of something to fill the silence, to make it feel a little less awkward, to ease his nerves, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. After a few minutes, Byleth came over and set the tea tray down on the table. Claude muttered thanks to her as he reached over and grabbed one of the already-filled cups, sucking in a breath and letting it out.

Byleth took a seat across from Claude, grabbing her own cup, blowing on it gently, and he saw her brow furrowing as she set a piece of paper down under her cup and started at it. Claude recognized it as the expression she had on when she wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of what to say. So, Claude tried, instead.

“Thanks for the tea, my friend,” Claude said, his gaze darting down to meet his reflection in the soft brown water.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, humming, and Claude could feel her gaze flick to him, and then away to something he couldn’t see as he took a sip of his drink. Thoughts whirled through his mind, questions that he couldn't bring himself to say. What should he say to her? What _could_ he say to her? How was he supposed to say the reason he was avoiding her was because he was hopelessly in love with her but watched as another man presented her a ring? No doubt Byleth had endless questions for him, too. 

But instead of Byleth asking Claude question after question, she instead set a piece of paper down in front of him.

Claude glanced down at it - it was turned upside down, and his gaze flitted up towards Byleth, who had her own eyes focused on the paper. Like always, her expression was blank, stony, unreadable.

“What is this?” He asked her, setting the cup in front of him as he looked down at the paper, back up to Byleth. She gave a single nod.

“Turn it over.” There was a hint of something in her voice, something Claude couldn’t quite place, but it almost sounded like… embarrassment, maybe. Or was it nervousness? He couldn’t tell. But he could see the blush rising up to her cheeks, tainting the tips of her ears rosy pink.

Frowning, Claude turned his body to face the table better, and he scooted his cup to the side. He grabbed the letter - wrinkled and crumpled, he realized - and alarm bells sounded inside his head. And when he read the first few lines, Claude felt his heart fly and drop into his stomach in one breath. The letter he had written, detailing what he wanted to say to Byleth at the Goddess tower, lest he be unable to find his voice otherwise. And before he could speak, Byleth answered his unasked question.

“I found it crumpled up in the corner of your room when I was… when I was cleaning it out,” Byleth said, and Claude gulped, covering his face with his hand. Partly out of embarrassment, partly because he didn’t like how Byleth hesitated when she spoke.

“Is that so…” Claude grunted, peering at Byleth through his fingers, neck and face burning up. “I…” He trailed off, sighed. So much for his dignity, or for keeping his secret.

“It was you who sent me the note to meet up at the Goddess Tower, am I right?”

Unable to find the words to say what he wanted to say, Claude nodded, pulling his hands away from his face to drink his tea.

“Yeah,” He grunted after a few seconds, gulping. His eyes slid to her, quickly, then darted back down to his cup. “How’d you know?”

“I found a vial of poison outside the Goddess tower when I went to see who sent it to me,” Byleth responded, nodding her head to the side. Claude followed her gaze, grimaced when he saw a small vial filled with a dark blue liquid inside. He must’ve dropped it in his rush to escape.

Maybe she didn’t know that he saw her. Maybe she didn’t know that he saw Sylvain. Maybe she didn’t know that he saw him give the ring to her. _Maybe, maybe, maybe._

Byleth sighed. “I never saw you up there, Claude. Where were you?”

Claude gulped again, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I…” He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to lie to Byleth. Did he really want to tell her, though? Or would it be better to keep it a secret?

He hadn’t even realized Byleth was talking to him until he felt a hand slip inside of his own. Claude looked up to see Byleth looking at him with a worried gaze, her thumb flicking over his fingers.

“Claude, please, talk to me,” Byleth said, voice quiet. Claude opened his mouth, closed it, sighed.

“I… when I got up there, Byleth, I saw you up there with… with Sylvain,” he started, refusing to meet her gaze and wondering if it would be better to keep holding Byleth’s hand or pull away. But his heart fluttered in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “I… I saw him give you- give you a ring.” His voice cracked, and he hated it.

Byleth’s hand squeezed his hand, and Claude’s breath hitched as he waited for the answer, waited to see if she really would say no, if she really would break his heart.

Instead, he didn’t hear a rejection, didn’t hear the resounding no he’d been expecting to hear, didn’t hear any words that would break his heart.

“Claude, Sylvain wasn’t giving the ring to me-” - ** _what_** \- “-He was asking if he should give it to Ingrid or Felix.”

Claude blinked, unable to comprehend the words he just heard. _Sylvain… the ring wasn’t for Byleth? Did… did that mean…_?

He looked up from his drink, at Byleth, all his worries and sadness and fears disappearing as he looked at her. There was a pink blush to her cheeks, expression unreadable, but soft, sea-green eyes almost worried. Try as he might, Claude couldn’t stop his gaze from flitting down to Byleth’s lips, oh so inviting, the corners of it quirked downwards in worry, mind still trying to comprehend and process this information.

Sylvain never proposed to her.

_Sylvain never proposed to her._

**_Sylvain never proposed to her_**.

Maybe miracles _did_ exist in this world, after all. Whatever it was Claude felt was something of a blessing, a weight off his chest. Sylvain never proposed to Byleth. That meant…

Maybe it wouldn’t be as beautiful or romantic as Claude had imagined it to be, but he needed to tell her, _now._

**✧⭒✧⭒✧**

It took Byleth a few more seconds of rambling, nervous talking until she realized Claude hadn’t heard a damn word she said. He was just… looking at her. Jaw slack. Eyes wide. Cheeks as red as tomatoes. He was looking through her, seeing something Byleth couldn’t, and she frowned.

“Claude?” Byleth asked, knocking once on the table with her knuckles. He just kept staring at her, through her, a slight flush to his cheeks. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth tried again, hitting the table louder this time. “Claude!”

That snapped him out of whatever he was thinking, jaw snapping shut as he blinked. Claude straightened up in his chair, too, eyes flitting up to meet Byleth’s gaze.

“Did you hear me?” She asked him, frowning. Claude opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, his eyes fitting downward, before he looked back to up her.

Then, he stood up, her chair screeching on the wood floor as he did so. Byleth startled, watching as he walked around the table towards Byleth.

“Claude, is every-” she started, but before she could finish her sentence, he reached down and grabbed Byleth’s hand.

She couldn’t repress the squeak of shock that escaped her mouth when Claude yanked her onto her feet, sending her up and stumbling forward into him. He wrapped one hand around Byleth’s waist, pulling her closer to him and making sure she didn’t fall or otherwise stumble to the ground.

Then, before Byleth had a chance to say anything, Claude kissed her.

Byleth froze, caught off-guard by the sudden feel of his lips on hers. They were warm, slightly chapped, tasting like pine and sunshine. The hand that had lifted her up in the first place let go of her arm, sliding around and resting on her neck. She shivered at the contact, warm, lips buzzing with the feel Claude kissing her. It was so unexpected, but at the same time, bliss. Byleth had wanted to kiss Claude for a long time, now, but she could never find the courage to do so, afraid.

Afraid he wouldn’t kiss Byleth back. Afraid he wouldn’t be - wouldn’t ever be - ready. Afraid that she would destroy what fragile friendship and trust she did have with him.

But Claude was there, holding Byleth in his arms, breath hot on her face. He was looking at her through half-lidded eyes, lips brushing feather-light against hers. And right now, his expression was open, soft, and Byleth saw something in his eyes she had rarely ever seen from him; fear. Fear of what, though? Her?

Or maybe he was afraid of the same thing she was.

At that moment, Byleth didn’t need to say anything. She just wanted to kiss him again, feel the warmth of his skin under her fingers. So, she tilted her head up, just slightly, just enough to connect, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Claude didn’t say anything, either. He just tilted his head down and kissed Byleth again, softer than last time. Byleth parted her lips, yielding her mouth to him, and he slipped his tongue in, soft and gentle. She stood there for a few minutes, letting him explore her mouth, movements soft and gentle. It was bliss, something Byleth had craved for gods-knew how long. A part of her was sure Sothis would be cheering Byleth if she were still there.

Her mind soon grew hazy, though, and Byleth reluctantly pulled back to catch her breath. Claude stayed where he was, looking at through half-lidded eyes and his lips feather-light on hers.

“I love you, Byleth,” Claude muttered against her lips as he pulled his hand away from her waist. “Gods, I love you so much, more than I can say.”

Byleth opened her mouth up to respond, but Claude leaned forward again, pressing another kiss to her lips that made Byleth weak in her knees. When he pulled back, he took his other hand and removed the arm she draped around his neck to pull him closer. He wrapped one hand around that one, lowering it, before turning her hand so her palm was facing the ceiling. Claude looked down, still not letting go of her hand, gently uncurling her fingers from the fist it was in up as Byleth followed his gaze. Then, he pressed something small and cold into her open palm, pressed his forehead to hers.

When Claude pulled his hand away, Byleth sucked in a breath.

In her hand was a ring, gold and silver, with an emerald the same shade of his eyes on top. There were words that Byleth couldn’t understand etched into the sides in a tiny gold script, almost invisible to her gaze.

“I love you, my friend,” Claude repeated once more in the same low voice, still holding her hand. Byleth looked up at him, meeting his forest-green gaze. “But more than that, I... I want you. All of you. Body, heart, soul... I want to be with you.” He paused and gulped, lips shaking as he looked at her, mask shattered, walls destroyed. “If... If I be yours, my friend... will you be mine?”

His voice cracked when he said his next words, the same fear from before flashing in his eyes as he squeezed her hand, letting out a shaky breath. And now Byleth understood; he was afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt. Afraid that she wouldn’t love him back. Afraid of baring his heart to another, lest it get broken. After all, _vulnerable_ wasn’t the word Byleth would use to describe Claude. So seeing him there, shoulders tense and gaze both sharp and clouded, the light grip he had on her hands... no wonder Claude felt so bad after the whole Goddess tower incident.

In response, Byleth transferred the ring from one hand to the other, before reaching into her pocket. Her fingers closed over the cold silver of her mother’s ring, thumb tracing the etches of the design on it. She pulled her own ring out, hiding it in her closed hand, as Claude waited with bated breath for her answer. She could feel his eyes on her, on her lips, rubbing a finger over her knuckles.

Gently, she took Claude’s hand, pressing her own ring into his palm. He tensed, sucking in a sharp breath as he looked down, slowly opening his hand.

“Is-“

“It was my mother’s,” Byleth said quietly, her gaze flicking over the design of both their rings. “My dad got it before after she died. I got it after he died.”

Then Byleth looked up at him, into the deep forest of his eyes, the forest she found herself often so lost in these days. When she spoke, her voice was a bare whisper.

“You can have it too, if you want it.”

The smile that broke out on Claude’s face made Byleth’s pulse race, genuine and real and full of warmth, love.

“I do, Byleth,” Claude said, voice quiet as rain on a leaf. Byleth felt a smile breaking out onto her face, and shivered when Claude lifted her hand up. “Gods, I do, so much.”

He plucked the golden ring from her hand and turned her hand over, gently slipping the ring onto her ring finger. It was warm from her holding it, sliding on perfectly. The emerald gleamed in the light.

Claude chuckled softly, running his finger over the gem. “Perfect fit,” he muttered to Byleth. “And it matches your eyes, too.”

“It’s beautiful,” she agreed, holding her hand up to get a better look at it. Her eyes darted to the small etchings on it, in the silver in-between the gold bands. “What does that say?”

Claude repeated the words in a language she didn’t know, (she assumed Almyran) but sounded so pretty off his tongue, before translating.

“ _‘May our hearts and souls be bound forever, even in death’,_ ” Claude said, running his thumb over the etchings, before raising a shoulder. “At least, that’s the rough translation.”

Byleth hummed, taking his own hand to see if her own ring fit. His hands were warm, calloused; a warrior’s hand, but she could tell it would need resizing. Her mother must've had dainty hands, like hers. Still, Claude wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling Byleth close, nuzzling his head into the nape of her neck.

“I love you, Byleth,” Claude repeated, his breath tickling her skin. “I love you, with everything I am.”

“I love you too, Claude,” Byleth said, reaching up and wrapping her hands around him, clutching his shirt.

She could feel him smile against her neck, before he pressed a kiss to the skin there. And another. And another, trailing a line of kisses down the side of her neck. And Claude, ever the teaser, nibbled at her skin and pressed his tongue to her skin as well, making Byleth shudder. Claude straightened up, taking one hand and pressing it to the other side of her neck, and Byleth exhaled, leaned into his touch. Claude seemed to savor it, kissing her harder, chuckling under his breath when he incites a gasp or other small sound from her, desire racing down her spine.

He kissed the soft, sensitive spots of Byleth’s throat and neck, nipping at her skin, muttering under his breath as he did so. With each kiss, each nibble and bite, Byleth felt her neck flush, and instinctively tried to lower her head. But Claude reached up, gently grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged down, exposing her throat and neck to his relentless and infuriatingly pleasurable teasing.

“Asshole,” Byleth breathed, shivering when he nipped at her. Claude chuckled.

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole, By,” he mummered against her neck, skin tingling where he kissed her. “Forever.”

 _Forever_. Byleth liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neck kisses? Under-fucking-rated. 
> 
> Also i'm watching nailed it and sugar rush and I want cakes and cupcakes and eclairs and cake pops and i'm getting the urge to start baking help me


End file.
